Hey Nick

Short fanfics of my character rambling about her adventures with Nick Valentine in an alternate story fallout 4 world. Nothing here is in any particular order but should tell a short story on their own. Okay to reblog or send asks/prompts. More character info on the "More Info" tab.

[hey-nick-your-thoughts]

The habit of sleeping in had been long lost on me. Even though I slept the shock and stiffness off for days after leaving the vault, it eventually became habitual for me to wake up early in the morning. For a year, it had often been to the rising sun but in the detective agency it remained an elusive sight. Bricks shuttered the entire bottom floor off from the rest of the world happening around it. Even the top floor had been covered and recovered in various materials over the past decade or more. 

The residing detective's voice rang out as he approached the doorway of his bedroom, "Come on." He was, undoubtedly, anticipating that I was already awake for the day. 

Normally, I was quick to wake up at the sound of his voice. While traveling through a myriad of police stations all over the commonwealth, I had associated hearing his voice while I was sleeping with needing to suddenly be alert. An alarm no different from sirens of days passed. 

I couldn't move. Caught between a rough mattress and a pilled blanket, my body felt like it was both freezing and dripping in sweat. 

"Not like you to sleep in," he approached the side of my fabric prison, his amber eyes boring holes of concern into every inch of exposed skin, "You feeling okay, doll?" He placed his good hand against my forehead, pushing back my bangs to get a good reading. 

I found myself thinking about how receptive his synthetic skin must have been. Was it exactly like that of a human hand? Did it connect to things like thermometers to send the information to his system in order to tell the difference between hot and cold?

"A little warm." He pulled the blanket up to cover the small amount of shoulders that I had exposed. I felt the heft of the blanket against my collarbone. 

The detective stood up and I found myself immediately needing to roll over to reach for the bucket next to the bed. Draining the contents of my stomach into it all at once, I tried to muffle the sound so as not to wake Ellie. 

I then attempted to sit up and instead leaned against the wall with nausea floating in the pit of what was left in my stomach. "Maybe it's radiation sickness."

"Thought I heard one storm pass by last night." Knocking a metallic hand against the heavy bricks, Nick speculated, "These old walls may not have kept all of it out." 

"I don't have any RadAway around," I commented, recalling that the space in the drawer that used to house it was now housing a bag of tools instead. After reading that taking it often could cause hair loss, among other issues, I decided to switch completely over to using Rad-X instead. It was only preventative for a certain amount of time, but if I knew there would be any issues, I could pop one of the pills rather quickly and still keep my auburn locks. 

"Solomon usually keeps a ready supply of it. Why don't I go nab a pack?" In an almost repeating motion, Nick covered my shoulders with the old brown blanket again. I nodded, a chill crawling from the back of my neck only to turn into fire by the time it reached my toes. 

When the door closed, I found myself at the bucket again. I held a messy braid back with one hand and the blanket together with the other. A bead of sweat rolled down the edge of my face as I leaned over. 

Without me, Nick didn't have to worry about losing days of progress due to illness. Growing in a world kinder than this, I found that I was often feeling weak and helpless. A different hopelessness than the abusive home I had escaped only to end up here. Perhaps it was because someone else was being affected this time. It wasn't just me that I felt responsible for in regards to feelings anymore. 

In a moment of respite and feeling sorry for myself, I felt my eyelids drooping and welcoming me to more rest. I leaned against the cool, concrete wall and shut them. 

The door to the agency creaked open. A common sound that tended to make my heart beat a little faster. Something about him coming into that door made me feel less lonely, turning me into a twisted version of Pavlov's Dog. 

His boots played elegant notes across the splintered wooden floor. The synthetic melody played around the corner, accompanied by the RadAway in his hand, and continued to the dresser at the end of the bed. 

Black and gold eyes realized enough space to sit down at the foot of the bed, not too far where I was leaned against the wall. His weight pulled down on the mattress but it was comforting. "I talked to Doc Sun." 

"And?" 

"He thinks it might be food poisoning." Golden rings looked from me and to the bucket, "I'm inclined to believe him." 

It wasn't the first time I had food poisoning and it was true that radiation sickness felt much different than this current hell I was going through. 

The last time I could remember having food poisoning was when I threw up in front of my father just before the school bus was supposed to pick me up. He didn't want any calls from the school asking where I was, presumably because child services might make a visit due to previous issues. Instead he took one pill from every bottle in the medicine cabinet and made me take them all before sending me to school. I spent the entire day not knowing of my own existence. Before going into that state and after coming out of it, I remember being terrified but remembered nothing in between. 

But if I could dissociate that well through the current churning of my stomach, it would be something of a welcomed miracle.

"Said there's been a few cases of it around in the last 24 hours. Should check on Ellie, too, when she wakes up." 

"In any case, he said we should treat you for that first before dosing you with the RadAway." 

I sighed, "Today of all days, Nick. I'm so sorry." 

He shook his head, the gray hat cropping his face with shadows from the dim lighting, "Better it happened in here than out there.' The detective stood up and pointed at the head of the barren bed, "Just try to get some rest. We can leave after you're better." 

Though I still felt bad about hindering his work, despite his words, I laid down again on the mattress. Auburn hair obscured my vision, the braid became uncomfortable beneath my weight even with the bed below. I pulled the stretched hair tie apart from a sea of red and gently parted the waves until it flooded the surface below.

When he brought a bowl of soup in the afternoon, I realized that he really wasn't as concerned with the new case as he was with my health. By then, my stomach couldn't possibly have had anything else inside. I was happy to finally taste something that wasn't my own vomit. 

"Is Ellie okay?" I asked the detective between sips. 

"She's fine. Maybe that helps narrow down the culprit." The culprit, this time, was whatever food had caused the city to get sick. 

"Maybe that meat I added to the mac and cheese."

"Maybe." He concurred before joining me in sitting on the bed again. "Should talk to Doc Sun and see if he can't get whatever it was off the market before it kills someone."

I nodded, taking another spoonful of the hot broth. "So, Nick? Your last case, the Eddie one... Is that the only thing you had planned for the rest of your life or is there something else?" 

"What do you mean?"

I crossed my legs and cupped the warm bowl in my lap, "Your hopes, aspirations... a bucket list maybe? Going places or achieving something." 

Thinking about it, I was probably asking because I didn't see any for myself. After all, I was never meant to be here, to be alive at this point in time. Most of my life, since I was left alone with my father, was focused solely on surviving. I was reliant on the here and now with no chance to look forward more than 'I want a better life'. Sometimes, even before the bombs, life didn't feel like it was always guaranteed to continue the next day. 

My stomach churned again but it was a less physical feeling than what I was experiencing before. 

"Well." Nick paused and adjusted his weight against the bed. "The old nick wanted to see the city from the top of Bunker Hill. As much as I want to live my own life, I can't seem to shake the feeling that I'd like to go up there, myself." 

Failing to stifle a laugh, I thought about the fact that we had already been in the area. 

"Don't laugh," He scolded, as if he thought I was laughing at the simplicity of his dreams.

"No, no. I was just thinking about how we had the opportunity when we stayed the night there." The beginning of that journey felt as if it was years ago. I remembered my apprehension in trusting the synth detective. The first person to truly reach out to me and I was keen to push him away for so long.

And with my feelings towards him now, all of it felt a little silly and nostalgic. 

His eyes focused directly on mine as he tried to explain himself. "Look, I didn't want to overwhelm you."

"Let's do it together one day." I interrupted before he could print out another excuse. Maybe he really didn't want to overwhelm me but I personally thought it might have been his dedication to one task at a time. He was so focused on the case that he didn't take much time to do anything else unless I was dragging him into it. If I had known he wanted to go to the top of the monument, though, would I have offered at the time? 

"Sounds good." Seeing the smile lingering just beneath his serious stature felt like an achievement. "What about you, doll?" 

"Nuka World." Pulling the bowl back up from my lap, I took another spoonful of the cooling soup after an unexpected yawn. 

"Probably not functional right now. Why Nuka World?" I could practically see the gears turning in his head. 

"Everything in the commonwealth is in disrepair and honestly, it's beautiful." Buildings where the sunlight crept in had sunflowers reaching towards those rays. Highways creating works of art in the directions they bent and fell, as if they had simply begun melting into the earth one commonwealth summer. Forest lined sidewalks with billboards at the heads of their trunks. The way grass even grew in police stations torn open by a landslide. "I wanted to see a place I could only dream of as a kid become a work of art restored by nature." 

"Fair enough. Most people these days wouldn't have had the experiences we've had, save for a few ghouls I suppose." His hat bobbed slightly as he nodded. 

Setting the bowl aside and melting into the blanket and rough mattress, I continued my interrogation with the detective, "You're lucky."

"How so?" 

"You never had to see the bombs fall."

"Maybe I am." 

I still saw and felt the force of it in my dreams. The debris kicking up as the elevator to the vault descended. The alien wind blowing across the top as if it was a bottle to play a tune on. 

A frozen atmosphere in an unfamiliar place where my father and I were ushered to change into vault suits in front of everyone else. Neighbors sighing in relief as if the rest of the world hadn't just died in that same moment. 

Before long, I was waking up again. 

Warmth. 

As I rubbed my blurry eyes, I spotted the detective resting in the bed beside me. He often told me that he didn't need sleep but encouraged me to at least, which is why it was always surprising to find instances in which he chose to. The only difference this time is that he had decided to share the bed with me. 

Confused but not unhappy, I pulled half of the pilled, brown blanket over his figure. At the end of the bed lay his coat and hat, accompanied by a spare bag of RadAway.

[hey-nick-your-thoughts]

Almost everything in this empty world was ready to be picked up and given a new life after centuries of waiting. Soul mates in the form of human and material called out to one another without regards to the lives both of them had lived before each other.

If I wanted something material, it was easy to just find it in rubble of the world with only former owners to speak of. It was an odd, freeing feeling to be able to shop for clothes without a budget or price hanging over my head and I did so before I ever entered Diamond City. Most of them disappeared after, leaving only the ones I wore most often.

My backpack was filled with such material things but I quickly had to learn to only take what I could carry. If it was important to me, it was housed in a nostalgic Silver Shroud backpack. Sometimes it was things like medicine and food; other times it was comic books and broken electronics.

In this case, it was a ruby red coat. Lined with fur and flared at the waist, it was a much different look from the style I normally donned. However, it was also a coat that I remembered admiring in the window of Fallon's on a trip to the city before the bombs fell. To get my hands on it was something of a personal success for me but it kind of felt like cheating when money was no longer a barrier.

Worn leather gloves and a boiler suit beneath almost looked elegant when paired with the dusty ruby. A fine enough look when it came to commonwealth chic. Perhaps a little too unlike me, but something I wanted to grow into.

"Ready to hit the road?" The detective asked his question just after discarding something behind him. A cigarette if I had to guess.

Around Diamond City, I had always noticed him with a burning stick in his hand. I think after we started, he decided to try and quit. A difficult, task, probably. I felt torn because it made me a little happy to see him without it, though.

I gave the coat a little spin, holding onto the straps of my backpack as I did, "How do I look?"

He entertained my question after watching my display of good spirits with an almost stoic face, "Like a doll."

It was an answer that was very much like him but it still caught me off guard.

"Doll's a new one..." After a moment I nodded to myself, deciding that "doll" was something I rather liked being compared to.

"So where are we off to today, Nick?" I straightened myself out and met his amber rings with a more serious approach.

"I'll give you three guesses." The detective began walking in the direction of the rising morning sun. His own tattered coat and hat hid most of his features from the rising sun but seemed to just be for show rather than for warmth. Did he find the clothes himself or did they find him, I wondered.

I followed him, only a step or two behind. Walking beside him felt as though I was putting us on equal ground. Maybe it was because he was leading this expedition or perhaps it was because I saw him as being infinitely wiser in this world than I was.

And how much trust could I show him? How much could I open up to the synth detective?

Air as crisp as fresh apples pooled in my lungs, sending shivers down my neck and into my warm attire. The morning sky cast down shy hues of pinks and blues, which caught in my breath as I returned a single guess, "Another police station, right?"

"You got it." Somehow the slight grin warmed me but I couldn't help but to feel that behind that synthetic smile, that maybe the detective was just as broken as I was.

[hey-nick-your-thoughts]

Romantic or platonic?

I sent parts of the crumbling building into the flood waters below like a tormented game of "Loves me, Loves me not". Broken petals sank into the cold depths; underneath them lay the hopes and wishes of lives long gone. I dropped in my desires and memories to join them.

And yet even with the beating the surface took, the water still glittered in the ash colored light of the sun through low clouds. Morning was behind us and evening had yet to fall, but this half sunken police station was where we needed to be for the night.

The detective worked behind me. His fingers danced around the keys of a long rusted terminal. With each key came the reminder of all the years and all the weather it had survived. Maybe it lived just long enough for this. Maybe this was both the life's work and fate of this lonely terminal.

"Damn, this is hard to crack."

Even though I hadn't intended it, a smile crept up through the corners of my lips. He struggled with them almost every time so it had become something of a ritual to hear his frustrations each time. Nearly the same line as the last terminal, only slightly different. At times like this I was grateful at how easy it was to finally be able to read his expressions clearly.

Going by the frustration and puzzled look playing across his synthetic face, I could only imagine how much harder it was to hack than the last one.

I couldn't offer him any help but I wondered if he knew I was cheering him on with every attempt.

"Sounds like a fun one," I threw one last stone into the water before standing and dusting off the ashy remains building from my boiler suit. Pools of water reflected through broken windows, their ribbons twirling against the concrete ceiling inside.

"Fun, yeah, if you like beating your head against a rock." Maybe he was a little more frustrated with this one than I realized.

"That bad?"

He sighed with a grin, "Not really." With the overly triumphant press of one more button, the computer accepted his input. The terminal groaned out a distorted beep, taught the new note, undoubtedly, by the dirt that had began to call the speakers home.

"You get them every time, Nick." I leaned over his shoulder and watched as he clicked through the files to find the information he needed on the Eddie Winter case.

Enter. Tab. Enter. Enter.

The green hues of the terminal glimmered in the blacks of his eyes. I wondered if I dared to stare hard enough, would I be able to make out the text from there? For a moment my eyes watched too long, losing my thoughts while thinking about how this part of him worked. Remembering only after a moment that this was a human soul in a robotic body.

His hand hovered over the enter button once again but stayed a lot longer before he finally and gently pressed down on the key. Rust crunched beneath the command and synthetic features, once wrinkled in confusion and determination, were now contorted into something much different.

Nick had told me about "Old Nick" only recently. The detective had finally divulged the full details of our adventure.

Episodes that would bubble to the surface plagued his thoughts with the past. Only a single name needed to be uttered to sometimes cause this grief he now carried.

And on this screen called that ghost of the past -- Information that he'd not yet told me about his fiancée... or rather the "Old Nick's"  fiancée . Judging from his reaction, this information was rather new to him as well.

To be able to click a button and learn more about the death of a loved one must have been so tempting and yet so agonizing. Although I could relate, I wasn't sure I could ever entirely understand. Everything that I could remember was part of the only me. A single me.

There was nothing I could say in a moment like this. As his eyes scoured the entry and yet tried to peel away, I pulled my arms around his shoulders. The wound on my shoulder ached, echoing the sentiments in a more physical form. All I could think was that right now his wounds were the ones that needed tending and this was all I knew to do.

A warm, soft, plastic hand found my arm and held on as he braved through the entry in silence.

[hey-nick-your-thoughts]

"We'll keep to the waterfront."

A pale coat in the wind buried the figure ahead of me, only parting for moments fleeting to show the being standing amongst it.

"If we run into anyone, leave the talking to me."

His words were straightforward and confident enough that I didn't need to question why. I reminded myself that while he seemed kind and reliable, I barely knew him.

Leaves of autumn hugged the walls, huddled together as if to anticipate the coming cold of winter. A piercing morning sun moved further into the afternoon with each step the synth detective and I took.

The water was always on our left. It was easy to see what was coming from in front of us but we had to be vigilant in watching the crumbling buildings and darkened alleys on our right. Perhaps closer than I had looked at the city, even before the bombs, I saw what charm it had all once held. A life that others were able to experience before I did.

How long did it take for the boarded up cafes to close? Were the effects of the bombs felt in this very spot or were the people here able to live until anarchy had broken through battered walls? I was madly curious but felt just as lucky to not have had to experience it either.

Curious eyes felt around the bricks parting the water from the sidewalk which lead to chimneys in the distance. Smoke danced above them, catching threads of sunlight and weaving them into the knowledge that it meant someone was there. Were these abodes filled with danger or just people trying to live their lives in peace?

But I suppose that it didn't matter anymore. Living in peace in this new yet old world sometimes meant being dangerous.

"Unsavory folk have been using the bridges in and out of the city to make travelers pay "tolls". Sometimes you pay and they shoot you in the back anyway."

"If my intel is good, the Bunker Hill bridge should be clear."

Knowledge often serves as strength. Nick was strong because, unlike me, he had the knowledge of what to do. He knew how to navigate the city, talk to others, and had so many other skills developed by the wastes of the commonwealth.

Would I survive long enough to learn so much?

He took a calculated turn that surrounded the two of us with bent and broken buildings on all sides. The water disappeared but the autumn leaves continued to hug the buildings and curbs, dying them the colors of the sun where its light couldn't reach.

My thoughts wandered. They vacationed to several ideas on why we made the turn. How much more could a synth's eyes see than I could? Perhaps, as a detective, he only knew where to look. As those thoughts continued their little journeys, hazel eyes found the water again along the way.

A crumbled bridge that otherwise felt empty compared to the rest of the city. Within crystal clear waters, I found boats both above and below. A story of those who survive and those who do not.

I pushed my hands against the tarnished railing, pulling myself across just enough to witness everything that lay beneath the light show of sun-crested ripples. Tussling through the bands of my braid, the breeze kicked up again, pulling the pure smell of the sea with it.

His robotic hand fumbled with an old pack of cigarettes, eventually lighting one with a flickering flame that struggled against the breeze.

Smoke curled from between his broken skin, most of it probably never making it to the equivalent of his lungs.

A machine with the properties of a human, only everything was different. What did his lungs look like? Would matters like tar or smoke cause him any future pains or troubles? Was his heart turning with gears or powered like a battery?

He was a synth, after all, but I wondered if it was rude to make the distinction as I was.

My lungs rejected the smoke as the breeze became stale. I coughed, choking down the familiar smell of the house I once resided in.

Not a moment later, he threw it to the ground and stamped it out.

"Should keep going. Bunker Hill is just ahead. We can stock up there."

[hey-nick-your-thoughts]

Evening fog beat against weathered and beaten panes, attempting to buff out the memories etched within. The light glimmer of a freshly fueled lantern illuminated the ghosts that fog couldn't reach.

One bed, filled with excitement and terrors of the day passed. They desperately reached for the ghosts, the fog, anywhere that wouldn't hold them for any longer than they needed to be.

The smell of the island had crept into our clothes, our skin, our entire beings. A smell that, coupled with those desperate, reaching thoughts, was too much for either of us to let go.

I didn't know if I should hold his hand. Did he need time? Would he rather have the warmth?

At the bar, I could hear a crowd dispersing. Hotel's voice was the last I heard before it became eerily quiet. How many hours had passed in this bed where sleep became further and further away?

I thought about it again. Was everything about to change?

My fingers wrapped around the blanket, cracking through the icy illusion of the crypt-like atmosphere. Metallic fingers pulled them gently open and pressed between each individual digit, bringing the puzzle to completion.

"What do we do from here?" The ceiling pooled around my vision, sometimes crisp and other times hazy. I couldn't ask again if he was okay.

"Well, I suppose we'll just keep doing what we're doing" He sounded so confident and yet I still felt fear between the ghosts and the fog.

A warm kiss fell to the top of my head, just above my brows, in what felt like slow motion.

"The two of us will get on that boat and go back to the agency. Keep getting in trouble together and solve another case."

Together.

Together...

It dawned on me, after all of the other thoughts floated a little further out to sea, that this was our last night alone on this case. Tomorrow, we would be back home with Ellie at the agency. My thoughts wandered to places they had never voluntarily been before.

Love, but in a different form.

"Got something on your mind, doll?"

Pale, freckled cheeks grew warmer, reminding me of the fever I had felt only some time ago. I closed my eyes, hiding my shame from Nick and the fog and the ghosts and the ceiling alike.

He moved, not too unlike his human counterpart, when he chuckled.

I knew it was embarrassing for me to say, but his laugh only convinced me to do the opposite of what I normally would in an act of rebellion.

"Do... Do you ever think.. about, like, that kind of stuff?"

Embarrassment filled phrasing only caught another chuckle from the detective.

"Physically, I can't say I have the drive for it."

It was a joke.

"If you don't mind my saying, it isn't like I haven't ever thought about it."

"Still, it isn't like I've thought about it for long."

Because he thought of me as a child. I wasn't a child anymore.

"Doesn't keep me from wondering what you look like beneath it all."

I didn't know if I regretted asking. The moment felt intoxicating, as if I should just go with the flow.

Sitting up, I stared down at the detective, whose amber eyes fell beneath furrowed but bare brows. Small fingers, their nails sullied by the earth, started unbuttoning the boiler suit top.

He sat up and pressed his left hand against mine, a light touch to tell me everything I needed to know about him in a single moment.

"You don't have to do this."

I continued to peel away at the green buttons holding my self worth together until it slid down just past my waist. My own two hands pulled away the Nuka Cola shirt hiding everything I wanted to keep hidden.

And I sat before him, a child-like body only cared for by malnourishment. Nothing but skin and bones, as it had always been. A body that could have become something different with a single change in the life spent before the bombs. Adorned by scars that echoed the gold-filled ones inside. For him I shared my story, one that I had tried to keep hidden from anyone else.

It was a painting of the shame I held and the control I had rewritten it into.

"This is... This is me." Sat before him, I said this, covered only by a tattered bra and well-worn underwear.

His eyes didn't deviate. I could see the mechanisms working inside of his head, playing out the possible stories any action would become. Metal and plastic worked together to remove his own buttons and suspenders, eventually laying bare his battered chest and arms. It wasn't as if I hadn't seen them before, but in this unique situation, it felt as if it was the first time I had really seen them for what they were.

We both struggled with our bodies. We both wanted to trust the other to understand.

I felt the ridges where the panels came together beneath my fingers. Bullet holes that had missed vital places. Fraying edges from the plush plastic peeling away felt foreign and yet so familiar to the tips of my fingers.

He reached forward and brushed the autumn braid from the font of my shoulders.

Dim lantern light cast our dancing shadows against the wall. The ghosts slowly faded away as we laid back down and went to sleep knowing that love didn't need to be defined with a single act.

[hey-nick-your-thoughts]

Nick and I were supposed to plan things out together. That was who we were as a team. It had taken me too long to realize how hypocritical I was being towards the situation in Vault 114; This had been the second occasion I had put Nick’s life before my own after all.

Warm blood coated my hands. This wasn’t the first time I felt this sensation but it was the first time it had resulted in a death. As if it had been the lone culprit of this attack, I threw the screwdriver away from me.

I wondered if I was I crying or if this wet warmth was blood.

He finally pulled me to my feet but it didn’t last for long before I completely passed out.

Light flickered off of the tin above me, broken only by planks of wood. It didn’t take me long to realize where I was. The entire journey seemed like it was only a bad dream.

Sitting by the bed like he often did on our trips, Nick was reading a torn and beaten paperback. From this vantage I could see much of the wire and metal in his right cheek. The skin had peeled away to expose what he was inside. There was beauty in that destruction. It was poetic.

There was a pain in the side of my chest, like I had fallen and scraped it. That pain didn’t hurt as much as the memories that came back with it. My brain was foggy; I couldn’t play the picture clearly but I knew what had happened.

“Nick?” It was that kind of weakness that made me call out to him. If I was scared, his name was always on my tongue. Maybe I relied too much on him but I didn’t want to go through this world alone again.

His head turned to greet me while he shoved the book beneath the bed, “How are you feeling, doll?” I thought that his voice sounded too kind for someone who had done what I just did.

When I tried to sit up I felt the pain at my chest again. My hand made its way to the right side of my breast. Bandages and tape.

Nick noticed my concern. “Don’t try to sit up too quickly.” He sat down on the bed beside me. “The bullet grazed you. Saw all the blood and thought it was worse. You kept going, though… Well, until you didn’t.” The detective’s robotic hand came to rest on my lower arm after I finally managed to sit up.

To think that I hadn’t entirely noticed I had been shot while on my rampage. Or perhaps I had and I just couldn’t remember it. I was certainly noticing now, though. Seeing that I was no longer in my bloodied boiler suit, I came to have other concerns as well.

“I’m sorry, Nick.” I tried to face him while I apologized but I couldn’t. I was deeply ashamed and terrified of what I had done. “I killed him and I can’t take that back.”

Nick hesitated before answering.“It’s not ideal but sometimes that’s what these situations turn into. You did what you had to do.”  

“No.” That wasn’t right. I shook my head and looked down at my hands. “I didn’t kill him in self defense. It was out of anger.”

“Anger, huh?”

I nodded, “I saw him shooting at you but when I got closer, I saw who it was.” I swallowed at the lump in my throat and tried to change the direction of my words. “I became something less than human… Something not human at all.

"So you did know them.” He sighed and I stole a glance out of curiosity. When I caught those golden rings staring back I looked away again. Did he know more than he was letting on? His robotic hand slid down my arm and wrapped around my right hand. Though it felt so cold and foreign, it still felt human.

“Tell me something, doll.” This time I was able to look up at him. I nodded again. “What causes someone like you to be angry enough to kill a man.”

I paused; this was territory I hadn’t planned on treading. It was something I didn’t think I’d ever be comfortable speaking about. This was my shame and sorrow and I didn’t want anyone else to be bothered with it.

“Not going to force you to talk about this if you don’t want to.”

I swallowed down the idea that this was my secret to hold. I wanted to trust that this was something I could tell Nick. I wanted to be able to tell him anything. I shook my head, “There isn’t anything I wouldn’t answer for you, Nick”

“That woman we helped, I was held captive, like her. I didn’t know at the time about groups like raiders and bandits because I was still fresh out of the vault. Most people were nice enough to pull a gun on me out of fear rather than maliciously. I got too used to being able to talk to the people I saw; it’s how I learned about Diamond City.”

I squeeze his hand, “This group aimed their guns at me and used them to take me against my will instead. They chained me up for the first three days. No food, little drink… I think they just wanted me weak and powerless so I wouldn’t be able to fight them when I was supposed to be transferred to their caravan on the third day.”

I took a deep breath. There were things that I felt like I couldn’t admit to out loud. Maybe I’d break completely if I did.

All I knew for sure at that moment was feeling too ashamed to look at Nick as I spoke again. In an effort to hide myself I buried my face into his chest. Nothing was more comforting than hiding and nothing was more calming than the smell of his shirt.

“I couldn’t fight against anything they did…”

“They broke me into a million pieces that last morning.” After swallowing something that felt like my heart I felt his arms wrap around me. “I couldn’t do anything and now I"m broken and ruined and…”

“Now I’ve became something inhuman.”

“Oh, doll,” Nick sighed and his arms pulled me closer. Sharp pains riddled my wound but I didn’t care so much about it because this was the first time I had felt a hug like this. I wanted it to last at least a little longer.

“You’ve certainly been through a lot. It isn’t any wonder why you feel so broken but by some of those standards of yours, not a lot of people out here are human. Now, maybe a bag of bolts like me has no right to comment on humanity but the fact that you can sit here and worry about killing a man who hurt you makes you seem a whole lot more human than most of the people out there.”

His hands gripped softly against my clothes and skin, “I’m not gonna let the Commonwealth make a monster of you.”

[hey-nick-your-thoughts]

Morning came with racing and repeating regrets. The light no longer fell the same through the windows and the detective’s coat on top of me was the only scent I could pick up. Words quietly played from a holotape mixed with the birdsong outside. Everything I had worried about, the scene that I had caused, felt even more stupid than I decided it had the day before.

Morning came and I didn’t want to move. I didn’t want to get up. I didn’t want to do anything

I didn’t want to exist.

The world felt so heavy. Too heavy. Gravity pinned me to my sleeping bag and it was difficult enough to pull my arms out to rest on my stomach.

Nick hadn’t noticed me stirring yet. He seemed really focused on plotting points on the map. We had recently found another holotape and terminal detailing where we might find more information on Eddie. It was like Nick to listen to it over and over while trying to figure out where the best route to the next tape might be.

I wondered how much the world might be trying to crush him, too.

Even in my pain it was impossible to ignore his. Eight months with the detective gave me a lot of time to learn what that look on his face spoke. It was as if I could feel the determination born from grief radiating from him.

It was adding to the weight pinning me to the hardwood. There was no chance that I was going to tell him that, though. This feeling wasn’t his fault.

I just wanted to be able to comfort him like he did for me.

“Find anything new?” It came as a whisper from between my lips but he picked it up anyway.

“I think it’s some sort of code.” His voice trailed off in a way that made me think he was talking more to himself than to me. “Which means we need all of them.”

The bag squirmed as I made my way onto my side, resting a hand against my cheek. “A code?”

“There’s numbers,” the detective tilted his hat back, revealing more of that broken and scratched skin underneath, “in each of these tapes he enunciates a single number.” He focused on the map, which I was certain now contained numbers rather than points, “But where do they lead?” Amber eyes suddenly darted to meet with my spot on the floor, “Oh, sorry, doll. Good morning.”

“Morning, Nick.” Even as I said it, the world still felt too heavy to move beneath but it was getting lighter. “If you need to sound off anymore of your ideas, I’m all ears if it helps you.”

“Can’t promise I won’t talk them off.”

“Then you can just write them down and I’ll read them.” A gentle smile formed over my retort and the burdens of the world began to float away.

[hey-nick-your-thoughts]

I placed my hands around my own throat and backed up against the wall. It felt like the very blood in my body was full of needles. I felt nauseous- dizzy.

There was something about the smell, about the light streaming through the windows, about the way my clothes fell on my body. Something about it all made me remember that hand that gripped tightly around my throat.

Was my throat always shaped like this? Was it always this big compared to my hands? My body didn’t feel like my own.

Nick looked up from the notes he was writing on the map at the table. His eyes grew wide and he nearly tipped over the table with his knee as he jumped out of his seat.

“Bryn?” It was one of the few times I had heard him call me by my name. Something about it seemed important right now because I could hear it clearly through the buzzing fuzzy feeling in my head.

“You okay?” There was panic in his voice. I was making him worried. I shouldn’t be doing that.

But it was so hard to stop.

“Can you breathe?” I watched as he raised his hands towards my throat but immediately gave it a second thought.

Nick put his arms around me at my shoulders and tried to get a look at my throat instead. Maybe he wasn’t as panicked as me but I could just tell he was.

“Nick, I don’t know what to do!” Tears finally overflowed from the edges of my eyes as I said those words. I didn’t know what to do, I just didn’t know. I fell to my knees and Nick followed, still holding my shoulders.

“Just try to calm down,” his voice was quiet and calm, too, “Everything is fine, you can get through this.” I could feel his good hand rubbing my back. I let my hands fall to my upper chest. “Be sure to breathe.” I focused on watching them rise and fall with my breathing.

“I don’t know what to do,” I repeated because it was the only thing I could think.

He brought me in close to him until my face was against his tie. “Just stay with me.” He kept rubbing my back, “Worry about calming down first.” I heard Nick sigh.

I tried to put myself back into our present world. In my head I described to myself everything that was happening right now.

If I looked to my side, I would not see a television playing a game show. Right now, I was in a slightly tilted house in Nick’s arms.

There was a breeze coming through shattered windows, bringing in the smell of wet dirt. It was broken up by a familiar yet elusive scent that I could only assume was Nick.

My mind wandered.

Was Nick truly just a friend? My feelings for him were complicated. Maybe too complicated for me to really try to understand them. He was like a good friend, or an uncle, but sometimes I would find myself close to him like this and I wanted to be the only person he held like this and I wanted more of it.

What was the difference between friendship and love? My head was spinning it all in circles but it was helping me to ignore my previous thoughts.

My heart was pounding now. I could hear it in my ears and I felt it in my cheeks. Suddenly everything I just went through felt so stupid.

“I"m sorry, Nick.” I cried into his chest.

He embraced me, “It happens, doll. Don’t worry about it.”

“I just hope that bastard got what was coming to him,” Nick voiced. I rarely heard him sound angry but I could understand that it was for me and not at me.

I nodded my head from within his hold,  "he died.“

The synth pushed against my shoulders until he was able to look into my eyes, "The two of us may be damaged, but don’t let it get you down. What’s important is that we keep building ourselves up and keep going.”

[hey-nick-your-thoughts]

In the distance, a group of clouds were set to roll over us at any minute. The air around us was silent and eerie. Even the biggest bugs had ceased their chirping.

“It’s a rad storm,” I had said but the green strikes beneath the clouds made it more than obvious. Nick and I both stopped in our tracks.

His voice was clearer in this silence than I had heard from him before, “We should find some shelter.”

Every building in any direction seemed too far from the field surrounding our road.

“There was a Pulowski a little ways back,” I remembered.

“Out of the question. Those things are death traps for anyone who thinks it can protect them. If you ever wondered where the skeletons inside came from…”

“I’ve heard the stories, Nick, but there must be one that works. One prototype they used to get it approved by the government. I have to bank on this one being one of those.” I tried to reason, seeing no other way to escape the storm. We had expected to be through the field in less than a day’s time but rad storms were quick and unpredictable.

Honestly, they were terrifying.

They weren’t an uncommon sight through my life here in the Commonwealth but they weren’t something I was never going to not be frightened of.

He sighed, “Go on, we should head out before the storm gets here.”

It was backtracking. Though it was neccessary, it was also annoying. The storm was drawing closer and closer with every second. Much faster than I had anticipated in any case.

“Those rads are building fast. What do you say we pick up the pace?” He was worried, but I knew it was only for me. The radiation wouldn’t affect him in the slightest.

When we arrived, the radstorm was already above us.

“Hope you’ve got exact change,” Nick said in his concern as he watched the dark sky above us.

I dug through my pockets. Unless I had ended up with a hole I didn’t know about in them, it had to be here. “I know you’re here,” I grumbled as I pulled my pockets inside out. A silver coin dropped into the dusty ground. I picked it up and shoved it into the coin slot. With the press of a single button, the door opened and I jumped inside.

I asked my synth friend as I turned my pockets back in, “Are you coming, Nick?”

“Maybe I should wait outside, you know, Just in case.”

Time was running out and I had to tell him how I truly felt. That I was scared of these storms and having someone, even an aquaintance next to me would help. “I don’t feel like having to stand several feet away from you when I get out just because you wanted to be outside in a radstorm. Please get in.”

Close enough.

He reluctantly stepped inside of the tube and closed the door behind him. It was a tight fit and in order to see his face I would have to look nearly straight up.

Even though inside he was built from parts, it wasn’t like I could hear him ‘running’. Something about that surprised me.

He started playing with the buttons on the inside of the shelter, “Not many people carry around quarters these days.”

“It was my-”

“Try a fresh suit from Fa-a-a-al…” The ad that had cut me off had failed to even finish before it fizzled out.

“Not exactly inspiring confidence,” was Nick’s reaction but as soon as he looked at me he chuckled instead like it was a joke. I’m sure the terror was written all over my face. “Go on.”

“I used to take apart old machines to find out how they worked.” I could hear the lightning striking around us now so I paused. Nick nodded as if he was waiting for me to continue. “Someone wanted me repair a Nuka Cola machine. I had spent so much time taking them apart  but I wasn’t sure how to put them back together. The quarter, it was a keepsake from the first time I fixed something rather than breaking it. It was my lucky charm.”

He chuckled again but this time it was genuine, “I’m sure you’ll find a lot more to fix in this broken world.”

I smiled and looked up at him for the first time since the door closed, “I hope so, Nick.”

The storm cleared as quickly as it had arrived. It left no wounds, no sores, and no melting skin. When we exited the blue tube, I searched through my bag and found the pen I had been using to mark the map on our travels. On the door I wrote in the biggest letters I could: “Safe”.

[bryn-your-thoughts]

Sometimes it takes writing something with pen on paper to get the creative juices flowing. Written in a composition notebook, one similar to how I imagine Brynna has. Featuring my weird handwriting.

[hey-nick-your-thoughts]

Golden eyes flitted back and forth in the darkness, occasionally looking down to find mine. The dark gray ceiling matched the weather outside. Wind brushed past broken glass, bringing a welcome breeze into the stuffy summer-heated Red Rocket. There was nothing to be done in this weather, so the two of us had made a pit-stop to wait it out.

Not quite dark enough to light our diminishing candles; the constant flashes of light from the sky reminded me of sitting in front of a film at the drive-in. These days I found myself wanting to venture out to places like that. Nothing more than curiosity that could only be answered with fleeting nostalgia.

I tugged at the sleeves of my boiler suit tied at my waist, as if pulling them tighter would make them more comfortable to lay down in. Maybe it was boredom.

Nick was busy pouring over the last pages of the book he had been carrying in his trench pocket all this time. The cover and lettering were faded enough that I never really found out what he was reading by the title. I envied him for being able to read in lighting like this. Another thing to look up to him for.

I knew I could never be like him, no matter how much I tried. His wisdom had many more years on it than mine. His body would last longer and could take even more than mine. Even his senses seemed a lot more fine tuned than mine.

I wondered if there was a breaking point to Nick Valentine.

There was a lingering thought that he was immortal but thinking about it, maybe that wasn't quite right.

"Hey Nick?" I pulled my head from the ground and laid it against his thigh. A damp coat bunched up behind my neck but knowing it was his somehow made it more enjoyable.

"Yeah, doll?" His eyes landed on mine for longer than usual, offering his attention to my sound. There was that feeling again. There was validation in him noticing me. It excited me.

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

The second question demanded enough attention that he placed his book to his other side. "Sure."

"I still don't know how..." A brief pause. The idea that I shouldn't ask such questions ran though my head. If I asked him if his mind would still be able to work even if his body died, would he think that I was treating him less like someone and more like something?

Breath still poured from his mouth when he talked though, and every time he breathed out it smelled like the plastic and metal of an old terminal. He could not only touch things but feel them as well. His eyes, though stronger than mine, could still only see the same rainbow. If Nick was shot, he would feel pain and he'd need to get help afterwards.  

It mattered to me to know that he could live forever. I wanted him to live forever, even if I didn't. In my very selfish world, it mattered if Nick could carry on.

But I didn't want him to worry that I had stopped, even for a moment, seeing him as someone.

"...Why. I don't know why you quit smoking."

"I wanted you to enjoy breathing as much as I do." Nick adjusted the sleeve on his coat. "You think I didn't notice that coughing on the bridge?" He moved his hand towards my hair but stopped himself, moving it to a pocket instead. "Whatever it is I call lungs now, well, I like using them. Reminds me of being human."

I scrunched up my brow as I tried to catch his fleeing eyes, "I think you're amazing as you are now, Nick." They found me again. "I'm sorry, that wasn't really the question I wanted to ask you, but that's not important because I think you should hear why I didn't ask it."

My fingers trembled as they met each other, a habit I imitated from the synth both above and below me. "You're someone, Nick, not something. Maybe you realize that but I don't know if you do all the time."

Lightning flashed outside and brought a burst of thunder with it this time. For a moment the light I could see in him flashed across his entire being.

"You don't have to pretend you're person because you are one. I just want you to see the you that I see."

Was he shaking, too, or was it just how hard I was shaking? "And what do you see?"

"You're someone I look up to, Nick. I only wish I could be like you..." I watched my fingertips. "...or be with you."

"Maybe you don't understand how amazing you are because even if we can see the same colors of breathe the same air, you've done so much more with that information. You've had time to consider how you feel and how other people feel  and you have the wisdom to react based on those things. Even knowing that you could get hurt, you always put others before yourself. Maybe you don't understand but I want to try and help you understand that you are a person, Nick Valentine, and a really good one."

[hey-nick-your-thoughts]

I was getting used to spending nights in old police stations.

Nick was working through an ancient terminal. Going by the frustrated and puzzled look on his synthetic face, I could only imagine that it was a lot tougher than the last few.

To waste time, I was sending parts of the crumbling building into the waters that had flooded around it. After that could no longer keep my  interest, I decided to sit against the wall and watch Nick as he worked. From my vantage point I could see the face of the terminal but I couldn’t read anything on it.

He kept clicking away. You could tell exactly what he was thinking because his expressions tended to be easy to read. At some point he stopped typing; he really just stopped everything.

It was also easy to read the pain on his face in that moment. My stomach fell into an empathetic abyss. He had told me before about the ‘Old Nick’. He told me about the recurring episodes he had when this old Nick would bubble to the surface.

I could relate but I could never entirely understand.

I wanted to do something for him, though. After pushing myself to stand, I approached him and the terminal. On the screen, sure enough, was the name of his late fiance.

Even though it hurt, I wrapped both of my arms around him from behind. The wound on my shoulder ached but I wanted to care for him and his wounds. Nick placed his good hand over the both of mine. I couldn’t find anything to say so we both stood there for some time.

The way I felt for this man was like nothing I had ever known before. He was my first true friend, which is why I had a difficult time deciding if what I was feeling for him was romantic or platonic.

[hey-nick-your-thoughts]

The air entering my lungs was frozen. It felt like I could breathe better than usual. My coat was both functional and pretty, I felt. It was lined with fur and flared out when I spun around in it.

The nice thing about having a world to myself was that I could take anything I wanted from those old broken buildings. I had my choice of the clothing inside during my first journey to Diamond City.

It wasn’t my usual style, though. Actually, it was a lot more girly than I usualy donned but it was a coat I had admired when I was younger. To get my hands on it was something of a personal success for me but it felt like cheating when money wasn’t an issue in this case.

I shoved my gloved hands into my pockets and left the house we had camped out in behind. Nick pushed himself off the outer wall to greet me. Because we had heated the only undamaged room in the house, he had left me alone to change for the day, which was something I rarely got to do. Today it was finally cold enough to wear the coat I had been longing to get into.

“Ready to hit the road,” he asked with a smile and discarded something behind him that I suspected to be a cigarette. I let it go.

“Yeah, but first-” Because I was in rather good spirits, I gave him a spin, holding onto the straps of my backpack as I did, “How do I look?”

He entertained my question after watching me spin around, “Like a doll.”

It was a very Nick answer, but not something I was expecting based on my experiences with other people, “Doll’s a new one.” I nodded to myself as I decided that a doll was something I rather liked being compared to.

“So where are we off to today, Nick?” I straightened myself out and met his amber rings with a more serious approach.

“Take a wild guess.” He started walking and I followed along with him, only a few steps back. I still wasn’t sure where to stand in relation to him. Walking beside him felt like I was putting myself on equal ground with him even though I hadn’t done anything to deserve something like that. There was also the matter of me not completely sure that I wanted to show so much trust, either.

“Another police station, huh?” I replied without much thought on the actual question.

I was warming up to him, though, I just wasn’t sure I wanted to show him. Maybe he could tell.

“You got it.” The corners of his mouth were still pulled up, which made me think that he might have been in high spirits as well that day.

Yet, something about him made me think that he might be just as broken as I was. In a terrible way, it was comforting to think that he might be a kindred spirit. I think that’s probably why I had warmed up to this synth detective so quickly.

[hey-nick-your-thoughts]

The downstairs bedroom at the agency was once empty aside from a few case files and newspapers. Over the past few months it had become crowded with boxes filled to the brim with bits and things. Pieces of wires, gears from watches, and screws mingled with nails were the types of things that had made their way into this home.

And it was a home now. At least, it was beginning to feel that way. Nothing felt real about this place but then again everything felt real about it. A home that felt on the edge of reality but I couldn’t help thinking that one day it might just slip off.

That’s how things always felt in my mind. I held on to the hope that maybe this time it was something more concrete. I had to.

Nick had offered to let me have his room but I didn’t want to feel like I was taking anything away from him. I insisted that we called it “sharing” at least. That way he was still welcome to come in and treat it like his room as well. Sleep was optional for Nick but over time I saw that when he wasn’t busy focusing on a big case he often liked to lay down and rest.

Rain beat against the tin and wood roof of the otherwise quiet building. After spending a lot of time out in the Commonwealth, I had come to enjoy the silence for reasons that I didn’t need to worry about before the bombs fell.

One of the screws squeaked through beautiful sienna-colored rust as I loosened it. The back of the two way radio fell into my lap as soon as the screw was out.

The sound of the front door opening caught my attention. I immediately knew who it was by the sound of the shoes that arrived soon after.

‘It’s really coming down out there,“ I heard Nick’s voice call out as the door closed.

After placing the pieces of the radio carefully onto the dresser I wiped the bits of rust and dirt from my clothes and wrapped myself in the blanket from the bed. "It’s been raining all day hasn’t it?” Not that I minded the song of it against the roof.

“Rain?” I walked into the main room just in time to see him remove an icy coat and hat. “Turned into sleet about an hour ago.” He placed his hat on top of my head as if to share the pain and then passed by me. Even the inside stung from the cold against my temples.

Nick removed his keys and a lighter from his right pocket with his good hand and placed them on his desk.

“Hey Nick?”

“Yes, doll?”

“Is your hand bothering you again?”

He sighed and looked down at the exposed metal, “Probably just the cold.”

I had been hesitating to ask if I could inspect his hand but never found the courage until then, “Mind if I take a look at it?”

“Not at all.” His positive reaction to my question allowed the breath I was holding in to escape. Nick must have seen the sigh of relief because his lips curled into a smile.

My work space was usually either the stairs or the bed, mostly depending on what everyone else was doing in the agency. Ellie’s room was situated upstairs so most of the time I was confined to working on the bed and dresser at the end of it.

Nick sat down on the bed and waited for me to grab a few tools, “How long do you think this is gonna take?”

“Got somewhere to be?” If he did, I couldn’t be sure there would be enough time to find and fix any problems. As much as Diamond City wanted to turn me into one, I wasn’t a repair woman. These things took time for me.

His eyes followed me as I grabbed my trusty screwdriver and sat down beside him on the bed. “No; just curious.”

My heart quickened as I took his robotic hand in mine. “I don’t know. I want to take my time since, well, it’s my first time repairing a body.” I glanced up at him and smiled maybe a little sheepishly after meeting his eyes.

“Glad to hear you put it that way.” His words surprised me. “It’s nice to be treated like a person.” A low chuckle reminded me of pain. “In any case, I’d rather it be you than some repair shop.”

I nodded to show that I understood, unsure of what else I could really say to follow that up. My vision became obscured; I had forgotten that he had placed his hat on top of my head. I removed it and placed it next to me on the bed. Focusing instead on the task in front of me I asked him, “Does the hand feel stiff or is it just not responding well?”

“A little stiff. That’s why I want to blame it on the icy weather.” He flexed his metal hand a bit, which gave me a better idea where the problem might lie.

“What kind of metal is this?” At first it was only a thought but it had spilled out as words. It wasn’t important either way.

“Given your hobby, I’m surprised you don’t already know.”

“Can I get you to roll up your sleeve?” He answered my request without hesitation and I began inspecting further up on his arm. The 'skin’ was still attached to his arm beyond the wrist. “Taking things apart is my hobby. I can tell you the parts that make up an alarm clock but I don’t really have any knowledge on what those parts are made of.” I wondered if that’s something it could have advanced to if I still had a public library at my disposal. “Diamond City turned me into their repair person but I wouldn’t call that a part of my hobby. Making things work again feels really good but taking them apart is kind of like opening a Christmas gift.”

Nick nodded this time.

“Speaking of taking things apart, can I remove this arm panel?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Tiny screws at each end kept the plate on. I reached over the bed and to the dresser to grab a smaller screwdriver, feeling thankful that I had found a belt with different sizes on our trip.

“Feel free to take all of me apart if you have to,” he chuckled, his golden rings followed my movements. I stopped halfway through unscrewing the first screw. Of course Nick would say something like that after I compared taking things apart to a gift. Any desire I had to take him up on the offer I had to shake out of my head. It wasn’t that I had even gotten as far as to think of making him not work anymore.

No.

It was just that removing something like his chest panel felt too intimate to me. I wanted intimacy but I had promised myself I wouldn’t burden him with my feelings for him or desires that came from it.

I placed the screws back into their slots before setting the panel down on the bed. Things were easier to keep track of that way; something helpful I had learned while repairing items.

Underneath the panel I found a string of thread tangled around the inside of a bolt serving as a hinge. In its chaotic hold was a blue wire, pulled tightly along with the thread’s antics. “This must be from when you were sewing that new patch on yesterday.” I carefully worked it out of the spot it had called home for an entire day. “How does it feel now?”

Metal fingers curled and then released and then curled in again. “A lot better.” Since he was satisfied, I put his arm back together again.

Nick smiled at me and flexed his hand one more time. “Thanks, doll.”

[hey-nick-your-thoughts]

My notebook was filled with information about the current world. One of the more important things to me was remembering the date. It’s something that I found more difficult to keep track of after waking up. If I still had my Pip-Boy it would have been a lot easier.

I wasn’t sure if I was entirely correct on the amount of days I had experienced, though.

If my thinking was correct, it would have been exactly the right day to hand Nick a small bobby-pin box covered in newspaper and duct tape.

My synth companion laughed as he took it in his hands, “Already that time?” He pulled apart the paper rather than trying to pry off the tape. “What do we have here?”

Inside he would find a golden pocket watch. Honestly, it felt like cheating when you could just find things out here in the Commonwealth, but I always wanted to put some thought into my gifts. It was a habit that I had picked up from my mother.

Time was something I often lost so it felt important to me. When I saw the watch on my way out of Boston, it felt important. It felt lucky. I didn’t originally plan to repair it or to give it to Nick. It was after we spent that time together in the Pulowski’s that I knew the watch should go to him.

His amber eyes gave it a once-over, “It’s rare that you find one of these in this great of condition.” I couldn’t tell if he actually liked it or if he was just accepting it out of kindness. I tightly gripped the insides of my pockets.

“Told you that you’d find a lot more to fix,” His smile brightened up when his eyes found me again.

“How did you know?”

“You didn’t think I had missed all those times you were tinkering in the next room over, did you? I never expected this, though.” Nick took another look at the polished watch.

I knew my cheeks had turned to beets. It should have been more obvious to me that he had more perception as a detective. Of course the synth detective would have picked up on it. At least I was able to surprise him with what it was.

He pocketed the gift. “I’m sorry, kid. I had no idea it was already this late into the year.” Nick lowered his head as he shook it; he then looked back to me. “Certainly there’s something I can do or get for you.”

I shook my head, not because I was used to not getting gifts but because I didn’t want to trouble him. “I don’t need anything more than what I have now, Nick. You’ve given me enough already. I’m just happy to spend the holidays with someone." 

I couldn’t push myself to say “Christmas” because I wasn’t particularly religious and only celebrated the more material form of the holiday. I didn’t know if Nick was the same but I was sure the sentiment would come across. 

"Anyway, happy holidays, Nick.”

[hey-nick-your-thoughts]

Flurries floated around like white ash, covering the city in hues of slate both deep and soft. Festive colors glittered against the tin that decorated the city. Cans rang like bells as I escaped the prying look of Myrna watching through the window as I left Percy behind. Underneath my boots sounded the soft crunch of the icy ground that was now dusted white, reminding me of powdered sugar against a gingerbread house.

The years of gingerbread houses were long gone, though. I straightened my scarf out to keep the flurries from meeting skin. A bit of off-white tissue paper crinkled between my fingers. Aside from a few people eating at the noodle shop, the streets were quiet. No vendors hawking their wares and no one else to brush by as I walked back towards the agency. It was as if the snow had brought a blanket to smother away the sounds of the city.

A frozen handle greeted my hand before I was met with a warm lingering light inside. An old plastic tree had been set up between the file cabinets and desks.

“See you got the lights working.” Nick was leaned back in his chair, his desk now drowning in folders.

I folded up the tissue paper and shoved it into one of the pockets on my coat. “Yeah. It wasn’t easy finding the extra bulbs.” But I had managed. Two Christmases had passed in this new world; I had spent both traveling. Since we happened to be home this year, I wanted to at least decorate but even that proved a lot more difficult than it ever had been. “I thought you said you wouldn’t be working on any cases over the holidays.”

“With both you and Ellie gone I didn’t know what to do with myself.” He smiled and wheeled around in his chair to face me properly.

“Oh, she already left?”

I found the detective walking to me as he spoke. “Not too long after you.” His hands unwrapped the scarf from around me and then proceeded to remove my coat as well. “Morning, doll.”

“Morning, Nick.”

It was lucky, though, to hear that it was just Nick and I for the moment. I pulled the tissue paper out of the pocket before he placed the coat on the rack next to the door.

“Decided to dress up for the occasion?” As he spoke, I looked down to find a green dress instead of my usual boiler suit. Maybe it was because I was nervous about how he’d receive his gift that I had forgotten about putting the dress on before leaving.

“Y-yeah. I mean, it’s Christmas so I wanted to try… I wanted to try dressing up, maybe.” Though I had fun dressing up in it, I couldn’t help but to feel that maybe the clothes didn’t suit me at all. The image I had was much different from what I could see on me now, so much so that it felt fake to wear anything else but my boiler suit and graphic t-shirts.

He smiled, “Looks nice on you.” Though it didn’t destroy the thoughts that I was pretending to be something I wasn’t, it did help ease them.I pressed my head against his chest. Nick’s arms wrapped around my shoulders, “You alright, doll?”

I wanted to tell him how much I was feeling overwhelmed with the setting I had created for myself. I wanted to tell him that I felt like this whole day felt like I was pretending to be happy while really I had just bitten off more than I could chew mentally. I couldn’t tell him how nervous I was about the gift I had chosen for him so I settled for just getting it over with.

“Can I give you your gift?” My voice was muffled in his shirt.

Nick’s voice was like a whisper, “Sure.” I pushed myself away from him and walked into our bedroom. In one of the drawers of clothing, I had kept it secret. I gently wrapped the tissue paper around it before returning it to the small box I had housed it in. When I returned, I felt my hands shaking as I handed the box to Nick.

His eyes focused on the gift as he pulled away the paper but left it in the box. Fingers traced the shapes inside as the light reflected between his hand and the badge.

“How did you find this?” The detective’s face contorted through what must have been more emotions than he knew how to handle at that moment.

I recalled the haunted police station that had connected the two of us, “It was in the station we went to recently.” My thumbs pressed against each other as I tried to decipher what it meant to him now. “I just thought that maybe you could still use it.”

The detective put the box down on his desk and opened it up to reveal one of his own. Metal grasped it, offering it in my direction. “Got a little something for you, too.”

There was still no clear answer as to if he even liked his gift. The worry that it was another piece of the old Nick he wanted to leave behind consumed me. My fingers trembled as I received his gift. The white box was faintly gilded with trails of golden leaves but inside there was a silver necklace. A plain rectangle charm with rounded edges dangled from the chain as I lifted it from the box. It didn’t take long to figure out what it was.

After prying it open, two familiar faces greeted me- one on each side. Not unlike Nick, my fingers caressed something I had lost long ago.

“You, uh, talk fondly of them,” his eyes searched mine, “so I thought you might like a picture to remember them by.”

“Thank you, Nick. I love it.” I met his gaze after hesitantly looking away from my mom and brother’s.

“Glad to hear it, doll.” Nick’s arms pulled me against him. “Often times it’s hard to remember the faces of the people we care about after they’re gone.” Vague memories of confiding something similar with him ran across the tip of my tongue but never came to fruition.

A metallic hand closed the worn wallet against the badge and removed it from the box to place in his pocket. My eyes bore into his every movement to try and get a read on the detective. He moved forward and placed a tender kiss on my forehead before wrapping his arms around me once more. “Guess this means we have to get one made for you.” Golden rings fell to meet mine but I was more focused on the light smile that had graced those pale lips. “Merry Christmas, doll.”

“Merry Christmas, Nick.”

[hey-nick-your-thoughts]

“Merry Christmas, Nick.”