“Then why are you going?” Ellie asked, standing and following me as I headed towards the door.
“I need his help. And he’s not doing anyone any good gone.”
“You must be pretty desperate. It’s not often Nick can’t save himself.”
“As a matter of fact, I am.”
Wayfaring Stranger - Johnny Cash
You’re looking for a man. He can help you. But he ain’t gonna be the man you expect. I’m ashamed to say my fear and rage was leading me back then. Giving an old lady chems seemed so small compared to what I was looking for. Her visions were all I had to go on, and nothing was more important than finding Shaun. I’ve tried to make myself regret it, to let the guilt weigh on me, but I can’t. It led me to the truth. More importantly, it led me to Nick.
I always thought this story started in the Vault. With the death of my old self, and everything I knew. Watching my world, along with the people in it, disappear in a blink of an eye had sparked enough vengeance in me to fuel a war. It should have been enough to be the main plot. Not that it was small, but I guess I’m a sucker for a nice guy with a broken soul. Either way, it turns out this story actually starts at the ballpark. But you should know before you start, in case you hadn't picked up on it already, this was never supposed to be a love story.
The crash of glass filled my ears, pulling me from my deep sleep and sending me sitting straight up. I grabbed my gun from the nightstand and had it readied on the door, taking short and shallow breaths as my brain caught up to my actions. My heart thumped in my ears, with sweat already building at my brow. The shatter was followed by boisterous yelling coated in accents too thick and angry for me to decipher through the wall, but from what I could tell it was only the innkeeper brothers quarrelling.
The air I was holding in my lungs released as did the tension in myself. I let the firearm lay in my lap as I held my face in my hands, counting the seconds as my breathing brought my pulse back down to a regular rate.
I was still grateful the shock woke me. The images from my nightmares were quickly blurring together to the point that they were unrecognizable. If I had to experience them while I slept, at least I couldn’t remember them when I woke up.
My shoulders refused to relax as I rolled out of bed. In fact, my whole body ached from my journey the night before. I should have taken the nearly day’s walk from Sanctuary to Boston more seriously. But it wasn’t the first time I did something stupidly impulsive for the sake of the mission. Certainly wouldn’t be the last.
Ready to leave the musty smell of my rented room behind me, I hoisted my leather armor over my shoulders and fumbled with the buckles as my sweaty fingers continued to tremble. It must have taken me five full minutes to get everything strapped on. And once it was I started to sweat even more, the leather feeling as if it was constricting around me.
Everything about this world, and the anxieties it stirred in me, felt so foreign. It had only been a handful of days since I had unfroze, yet it felt like I had lived weeks in this wasteland already. Time had its own mind here, with every moment full of either danger or needed rest. There was no telling how it would move next.
My days used to start so slow and sweet. Usually with Nate’s warm voice telling me that Shaun was crying. He’d bring him in from the nursery and we’d snuggle around him in bed. Just staring as our son babbled and cooed at us. Listening to the radio, sipping at the coffee on the nightstand. The sun would start to rise and we’d get up with it.
I wish I had wanted it more then. I wish we had begged the sun to stay low just a bit longer. To keep the moment stretched on, and our son beside us. Even if just for a little while. Safe, warm, perfect.
The bittersweet memories stung my chest, causing tears to well up. I quickly pushed them out of my head, but was still left a tired, jittery mess. Unfortunately, this was my morning routine. Battling the visions mixed from the past, present, and my nightmares. At this point, it seemed only one thing could calm my nerves.
“Ah, Viv! Our newest patron. You finally woke up.” The bartender bellowed out with a laugh the moment he saw me dragging myself from the hall of rooms to the bar.
“Good morning, Vadim.” I offered him half a smile as my arms fell to the counter.
“I am sorry about the fighting. My brother and I don’t always see eye to eye… Eh, are you okay? You're as white as a sheet.”
“I’m fine.” I waved him off before pressing my eyes into my palms. “Just looking for something strong.”
“No problem, what’s your drink?”
“Bourbon.” With a stiff nod he grabbed the shot glass from underneath the bar and the liquor with it. The quiet splash of brown liquid made crave the drink even more. I snatched it from its surface and threw it back without bothering to taste it. My face twisted as it burned the whole way down, but the warmth quickly took over and calmed my nerves. “Thanks.” I pulled out the small bunch of caps I had in my front pocket and counted out the payment, plus a couple extra for him.
“Will you be back tonight?” Vadim asked, pocketing the caps.
“Depends on how my day goes.” I gave him a short wave before leaving the grimey, makeshift inn.
The Diamond City I was walking through that morning was much different than the night before. It reminded me of the last ball game we went to. It was right before Shaun was born and Nate surprised me with tickets right behind home plate. Not too far from where I was standing actually, just two hundred years earlier. Who knew a baseball field was big enough for a whole city? If you could call it a city. Smashing a few dozen or so metal shacks inside a ballpark wouldn’t have fit my qualifications before we went under. But so far this was the closest thing I had seen that felt like home. The houses and businesses formed a bull’s eye around the stadium with the Power Noodles bar dotting the center. The Dugout Inn where I was staying was tucked away in an alley towards the city gates and to start exploring I ventured back toward where I had started last night.
“Read all about it! Institute replaces people with machines! Are you next?” A young girl with short, wriley, dark hair announced from her podium. “Hey lady!" Her short arms wildly waved me over, her long skirt flouncing a bit around her pants as she bounced. "You're new, right? All newcomers get their first issue free." She extended the flyer out to me.
"How could you tell?"
"My sister told me to look out for a doe eyed misfit.”
“I am not doe eyed.” I huffed, taking the flyer. I made a face at the girl as she smirked at me. “I’m guessing you’re Piper’s little sister?”
“Most people call me Nat.”
"Most people call me Viv…” I let my eyes fall to the paper, wandering the article aimlessly. It started to catch my attention when a name stuck out to me. “What's the Institute?” I asked her.
“You don’t know about the Institute? Oh, man... ” She rolled her eyes at me. I narrowed mine in return at her. “They snatch people up and replace you with robots." She sighed.
“Do people disappear a lot?”
“How would I know? They look just like us.” She retorted with an eyeroll. I let out a breath, trying to keep my patience.
“You’re a smart kid. I’m sure you know someone who does know.” She pondered this for a moment before shrugging her shoulders.
“I guess, you’d have to ask the detective, Mr. Valentine. He’s the only one to go to if someone’s gone missing."
“Oh yeah? Where’s he at?”
“Probably his office. It’s down that alley. There’s a sign at the end that shows the way.”
“Hey, thanks kid.”
“Remember what I said about the Institute! You can’t trust anyone.” She called after me as I walked. I waved goodbye and heard Nat muttering under her breath as I walked away. “Give her ten days… max.” I couldn’t help but laugh at this. She gave me three more days than I had given myself.
I followed her directions to the agency, quickly finding the glowing detective sign pointing me to the covered alleyway. Even in the daylight the pink neon ‘Valentine Detective Agency’ sign seemed like it was the only thing lighting the way. A heart shot by an arrow glowed behind the lettering with another arrow pointing towards the dark and narrow corridor leading towards the entrance. Passing the light, I couldn’t help but hear the fortune teller’s words in my mind.
You find that heart that's gonna lead you to your boy. Oh, it's... it's bright. So bright against the dark alleys it walks. Maybe feeding that crazy old lady drugs was worth it after all. I should have written everything she said down, I thought to myself.
The metal door creaked open, and I was sure I would have alerted anyone inside. It was a simple box-y metal and concrete office, but was filled completely with files, papers, and other miscellaneous items that I could only guess were clues to cases. Off to the right, behind me, was a short hall that led to what I assumed were living quarters. Despite the cold look it gave, the agency felt warm and inviting. Across the room young lady in a flowy dress and dark jacket was rifling through files, completely oblivious to me intruding.
“The bills… Oh, forget the bills.” She sighed, mournfully muttering to herself. I decided to make my presence known, and finished walking inside, closing the door with a light slam. I figured I would have startled her but she kept her back towards me, continuing away with her work.
“Hello?” I finally spoke up.
“We're closed.” She told me over her shoulder. My eyebrows knitted together in frustration.
"I don't want to be rude but is Mr. Valentine here? It’s important."
"I’m sorry, the detective's gone." My heart felt like it missed a beat. I couldn’t have gone all this way to be led to a dead end.
"Gone? Gone where?" I asked. She turned to face me, her dress flouncing around her legs. "He was working a case. Skinny Malone's gang kidnapped a young woman and he tracked them down to an old subway station. I told him that it didn't feel right. But he just smiled and walked out like he always does… always did.” As sad as she sounded I couldn’t help but let out a silent sigh of relief. As long as he was alive he could help me find Shaun. It was just a matter of getting to him.
“Couldn’t he still come back?”
“He’s gotten himself into trouble before, but he’s never been gone this long. I never thought the day would actually come where he didn’t come back.”
“No one’s tried to get him?” I asked.
“Who do you send to find the man who finds everyone else?” She walked over to the desk in front of me and sat down in the armchair. Her face was fallen with defeat. I let out a long sigh, realizing I was about to make another stupid, and possibly fatal, decision.
“What’s your name?” I asked her, pulling the bag off my back. I dug around, counting my ammo boxes. After a quick stop at the gun stand in the market I would be set.
“Ellie.” She dried her tears, quickly composing herself.
“Where did you say he went, Ellie?”
“Park Street Station, it’s an old pre-war ruin. Skinny and his gang took it over.”
“Okay, great. I actually remember where that is.” I flung the bag back on my shoulder.
“You’re not actually going after him.”
“Do you have a better idea?”
“No, you just... you don’t strike me as the fighting type.”
“I’m not really.”
“Then why are you going?” Ellie asked, standing and following me as I headed towards the door.
“I need his help. And he’s not doing anyone any good gone.”
“You must be pretty desperate. It’s not often Nick can’t save himself.”
“As a matter of fact, I am.”
--
My legs were on fire by the time I had reached the Boston common. I had been able to get away with only running across some ghouls and a few rogue raiders before reaching this point, but I was still high on my guard.
Plywood signs along the metal fencing warned me not to wander inside the common’s park. Lucky for me, the hub was just on the edge and no where near the center. The buzz of anxiety kept me on my toes as I made one last mad dash for the station’s doors. The pops and cracks of battle echoed in the distance before they were muted by the heavy metal door shutting behind me. I would usually find this comforting, but there was plenty of danger waiting for me deeper underground.
The temperature fell as I descended down the broken escalator. I could hear talking coming from the next room. I hid behind the doorway, listening in and trying to get an idea of what I was dealing with.
“He’s weak, I’m tellin’ ya. That detective comes snooping around, and what does he do? Just keeps him locked up. He don’t even got the balls to ice some nobody.”
“Keep that shit to yourself. His new girl hears ya and she’ll start swinging that bat of hers until we don’t have no face left.” I could hear them walking and talking through the nearly empty lobby. A few more were lingering around. I didn’t think I would be able to shoot it out. I figured it was time to improvise.
I pulled my pack around to rifle through the junk I had collected until I found a ragged stuffed bunny that I had found in Concord. It was hardly big enough, but it would work. I pulled the seam that ran down its back apart and tossed the stuffing onto the aged tile until it’s torso was hollow. The empty cavity ended up being the perfect bed for a grenade. There was barely enough room to cover the explosive with some of the fluff to seal it in with only the pin being visible. I gave myself a nod of satisfaction. It would do.
I grabbed a couple of caps from my pocket and took a short peak around the corner to get a look. Most of the men were dressed in sharp suits, and some even completed the ensemble with a worn fedora. Most of them carried guns longer than my arm, and probably a lot more experience than I did.
The first cap was grasped in my hand, ready to fly. The metal clanged against the tile. I patiently listened as footsteps approached it. Another toss and the other cap rattle nearby the other.
“H-hey, check this out! Caps keep falling from the ceiling.” One of them called to the others. I was relieved to hear the other footsteps lumber over to the commotion.
“What the hell are you talking about?” My heart raced as they babbled on. My fingers sweated over the circle pin, waiting for the right moment to pull.
“They keep dropping down! Two of them! Look!”
“You’re hitting the chems too hard, bud.” A different voice chimed in.
“I haven’t even had that much! I’m serious!” The grenade clicked after losing its pin. One last good toss and I heard the soft thud of the toy. I covered my ears and braced myself behind the wall.
“What the-” BOOM!
It felt like minutes before I moved. I waited and waited for some sort of response or movement but nothing came. Slowly I stood and entered the now destroyed terminal. The air was heavy with the smell of blood and explosives. Like some sort of crude firework. There wasn’t much that could be recognized, other than the occasional burned cap. I figured it would still spend as I went around collecting them. I came upon the blue scrap of the bunny’s ear, left charred and frayed as I finished up.
“Thanks for your sacrifice, little buddy.” I gave it a small solute before moving deeper into the station.
I wasn’t nearly as lucky down by the tracks. I had to carefully sidestep a few mines as I made my way down. I stopped once the open area became visible. There were around a dozen or so triggermen. I had to be fast, precise, and alert. All things I did not feel confident in. My desperation had led me this far, though. Who’s to say it would fail me now?
I pulled out my pistol, checking the ammo before aiming directly at the back of their head. My finger trembled over the trigger, unable to let go of the fact that this would be the first gunfight that was initiated by me. I gave myself a moment to focus, taking slow breaths to balance my hand. Finally, I pulled the trigger. The first man flopped to the floor with the bang of my gun. Before someone had time to react I quickly aimed at the next one. My arm cuff was grazed as the other mobsters started to react. I ducked my head down as a swarm of bullets flew towards me. A break in the assault let me grab another glimpse of the tracks, and another head shot. It went on like that for awhile until the room finally fell quiet. The air held an unsettling feeling, keeping me frozen in my spot. I shut my eyes and waited for a noise. After several seconds there was a soft shuffle and footsteps. Just one set, but I could hear him closing in on me. He was creeping closer to the wall that protected me. I counted to three, held my breath, and popped up from behind the barrier. Before he could lift up his own gun my bullet flew through his chest.
I tried not to count the bodies as I passed them. I wasn’t close to ready to start processing the amount of damage I had caused. I followed the tracks, and was pleasantly surprised with the lack of security. I was able to stroll through the tunnels, their echoing silence bringing me some peace. Until I reached the last stop anyhow. I could see the tunnels had collapsed on the other side of the room. I slowed my pace and peaked around the tunnel opening. The coast seemed clear enough so I decided to continue on. I thought I was moving silently as I tried to sneak onto the platform.
“Hey! There’s someone here!” I heard a man call out from behind a pillar.
“Shit.” I muttered to myself.
“She’s here for the detective! Don’t let her-” With the pop of my gun I silenced the first goon, and the other dropped shortly after as he stumbled after him.
After a couple more skirmishes I found myself in an unfinished part of the station. Dirt and rock made up the floors, walls, and ceilings. The room was cluttered with boxes and construction equipment. As I ventured in a vault entrance came into view, sitting high on the wall with metal stairs leading up to it.
“A vault. Of course, he ended up in a vault.” Grumbling to myself I hooked my pip boy up to the panel, and pushed the button to open the door. The yellow lights circled as the vault hissed and groaned. The large gear shaped door sunk deeper into the earth before rolling off to the side. The metal bridge stretched out to meet the platform I was on. The familiar hollow step of my boot against the steel echoed as made my first steps in. It opened up to a small room, filled with storage containers. Off to the left was a small hallway, leading deeper inside the vault.
“Who the hell keeps opening the damn vault? Can’t hear myself think.” Someone called from the hall. “Skinny? Darla? S’that you?” The moment he came into view I fired. He cried out and with a limp arm he still attempted to aim his gun at me. Another shot and he was on the ground.
“Are you all this stupid?” I asked his body as I stepped over it.
The further I went into the vault the more the rooms started to blur together. I lost track of how many levels I had gone down, and of how many triggerman I had to put down. I was already desperate to get out of that stupid maze.
The last door opened to the second floor of the atrium. Below tables were sprawled out like a cafeteria. On the other side of the room, on the third level, a balcony overlooked the hall with a large circle window showing the office behind it. Yet another gangster stood in front of it, looking and talking to someone through the glass.
“How ya doin’, Valentine? Ya hungry, wanna snack?” He teased his prisoner. I let out a quiet sigh of relief. I found him. At least I could say I got this far. I could hardly hear the murmur behind the glass, but the words became more clear as I lurked closer to the stairs leading to the upper floor.
“...gives Malone more time to figure out how he’s going to bump you off.” The detective’s voice finally became clear as I reached the stairs, taking each step slowly enough to keep my boots from rattling against the metal.
“Don’t give me that crap. You don’t know nothing.”
“Oh really? I saw him write your name in that black book of his. Mumbling something about a ‘no-good, lousy, card shark’. Then he struck it off three times.”
“Three times? That’s not funny.” The guard itched around where he stood, obviously troubled by what the other man was saying. Once on the higher platform I hid before the doorway leading to the balcony.
“Gotta guilty conscious, Dino?”
“Shit… I gotta fix this, fast!” Dino was in such a rush that he blew right passed me squatting in the corner without noticing me. Another shot rang out through the atrium, as did the thud of his body.
“What was that? Who’s there?” The detective called out once the echo finished. I followed the voice to the window, only seeing a shadowy figure inside the office. “It’s not going to take long for them to realize he’s not coming back. Get that door open.” He gestured towards the terminal at the end of the balcony. It all seemed to happen so fast then, so meaningless. Even with Mama Murphy’s visions I had no idea I would be walking into a moment that had been written into fate a long time before then.
The door opened and I strolled inside the dark office, ready to grab him and bolt. The glow of his yellow eyes pierced through my thoughts, leaving all of my previous thoughts behind.
“Gotta love the irony of the reverse damsel-in-distress scenario.” He commented. With a flick of his metal wrist he fired up a match to light the cigarette hanging from his mouth. The flame that was brought to his face gave the first glimpse of the exposed framing beneath his cheek. “Question is, why did our heroine risk life and limb for an old private eye?” His voice struck a chord in me, somewhere that I thought was dead.
“Would you rather stay here?” I asked. He raised an eyebrow at me. Taking a drag of his cigarette he stepped forward into the light, giving me a better look at him. His synthetic grey skin had definitely been through plenty through his years in the Commonwealth. Despite his experience even his subtle smile felt warm to me.
“No, but you’ll have to forgive me if I’m wary of walking into another trap.” He retorted. I conceited with a nod.
“I need your help. But, I’m a lot better at explaining when I’m not in an old vault surrounded by blood-lusted mobsters.”
“Fair enough.” He pulled his pistol from his holster and readied it. “Well, what’s your name?”
“Viv.”
“Just Viv?”
“Vivian-...” I hesitated, suddenly unsure if surnames were even used anymore. Judging by his inquisitive stare he was waiting to hear mine. “Becker.”
“Great, I’m Nick… Valentine.” His lips curled into a cheeky smile behind his cigarette. “I’m actually able to say I’m pleased to meet you. Although, I probably would have been pleased with anyone who rescued me from this place.”
“I’m flattered.”
“You should be. Not many people would have been able to get to me. I’ve been stuck
down here for weeks. Turns out the kidnapped girl I was trying to rescue wasn’t kidnapped at all. She’s Skinny’s new flame, and she’s got a mean streak.” He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.
I let him lead us back out into the atrium. He seemed to know his way, and I was done figuring this maze out. I was happy to mindlessly follow after days of strategically planned movements.
I never imagined how much easier getting through a small army of mobsters would be with a partner. We blew through rooms as if we had trained together before. I could almost let my guard down. Even so, the vault went on for ages. We would think we were close, only to find another staircase leading up closer to the surface. Finally, after what felt like dozens of goons and staircases we finally made it to the final locked door.
“Do you think he’s in there?” I asked him as he went to work the terminal that held the door shut. “He could have run off.”
“No, he’s there. I can hear his fat footsteps from here” Nick murmured as he typed away. I was fascinated with the way his fingers moved, specifically the exposed metal ones, moved. Fluidly, and with intention, despite the fact that they were controlled by a computer themselves. “I’m not really sure where Skinny’s temper is these days. Stay alert in there.” He broke me from my thoughts. My heart thunked in my chest so loud I could feel the ripple in my entire body, the beat hammering in my ears. It was moments like these that I completely forgot why I was there. I wasn’t a soldier, that was my husband’s job.
“Ready?” He asked, cocking his gun.
“Ready.” I lied.
The door opened with a hiss. The next room’s light only illuminated Nick’s captors and what was left of their crew.
“Nicky, what do you think you’re doing?” A portly man in a sharp, black tuxedo called from inside the room.“You just come in to my home and start killing my guys? How could you do this to me?” Next to him a tiny porcelain doll of a woman with a shimmering, cool colored, dress wielded a baseball bat. They both watched with a smirk as the remaining triggerman aimed their weapons at us when we approached.
“You should tell that dame of yours to write home more often. I wouldn’t be here if her parents weren’t looking for her.” Nick said. I could see the detective nervously eyeing the room after he spoke. We were surrounded, and I was suddenly very aware of the large amount of sweat I was producing.
“What’s the matter, Valentine? Ashamed you got beat up by a girl? That why you needed your lady friend to come save you?” The woman cackled, her bright red lips stretching across her face. Her nearly flawless features should have stunned me, but I couldn’t get over the crazed look in her eyes. Even when she wasn’t looking at me I could feel her stare. “I told you, we should have just killed him! Now he’s sent this one to rub us all out.” She hissed.
“Darla, I’m handling this!” Skinny scolded. She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, tucking the bat into the crook of her elbow.
“Sure, you’re handling it. Look how that turned out. You got all sentimental. All that stupid crap about the ‘old times’.”
“Darla, please!”
There’s… an echo. I found Mama Murphy’s words rolling around in my head again. I tried to push them away, staying on alert, but they forced their way in. Something in the past that can help you. When you meet the fat man and the angry woman… It finally clicked with me. I couldn’t believe that drug addicted, old, broad really wasn’t crazy.
“W-wait!” I was only half-expecting anyone to hear me, but as I spoke everyone’s eyes turned to me at once. My heart kicked into a new level of overdrive that I didn’t even think was possible. “Skinny… remember- remember the Quarry, a-and Lilly June on the rocks.” I couldn’t even hear myself speak. Everyone, including Nick, just stared in silence. Did I screw it up? Did I even say anything? Was I already dead?
“What?” The mob boss finally spoke, dumbfounded as his arms, and his weapon, dropped to his side.
“Um… remember the-”
“Shut up, I heard you.” He stopped me with a wave of his fat hand. His brow furrowed in thought, scratching at his face as the two brain cells he had bickered back and forth inside his head. Nick shot a look at me, silently asking what the hell I was thinking. I gave him a short shrug, not letting my eyes leave Skinny’s hands. The second they even twitch towards his gun and I would be ready. “Alright. Alright, fine. I’m going to give you ‘til the count of ten. After that then the old days are dead, and I see your faces again then you will be too.”
“Skinny, what are you doing? Kill them!” Darla shrilled, stomping her feet around like a spoiled child.
“No, Darla. Skinny Malone is putting his foot down. They get one chance to leave.” Darla’s face twisted with disgust. Her wooden bat clamored on the tile as she tossed it aside.
“My mother was right. You mobsters are all talk.” Without missing a beat, she turned on her heel and started walking into the shadows behind them.
“Babe, where you goin’?”
“Home. I don’t need you and your fat ass weighing me down anymore.” She called behind her shoulder as she sauntered out the back. The boss watched with his jaw left open, his head following her until she disappeared. He whipped around to face us, his eyes wide with pain and frustration.
“ONE.” Skinny growled through clenched teeth. His sausage fingers gripping his gun as he aimed it at us.
“Time to go.” Nick grabbed my hand and pulled me passed the small crowd to the back.
“TWO.” Once my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could see how the far side of the room was cluttered with totes and boxes. It led to a wide hallway that led us further away from the scene but you could still hear the mobster’s voice booming behind us.
“THREE… FOUR… FIVE.” I could tell the boss was getting impatient as he sped up the countdown. “SIX.”
“This way, there’s a tunnel. It’s how I got in.” Sure enough, almost tucked away in the corner, was a ladder heading straight for the surface.
“SEVEN.” The stomps of boots started to approach as we clamored up the metal rods. At the top was a stone sewer cap. I struggled to push it open, hooking my leg around the ladder for balance as I used my whole upper body to shove the thing open.
“EIGHT.” Fresh air cascaded from above as the cap moved aside. I crawled out from the sewer hole and simply rolled aside so the detective could follow.
‘NINE.” I heard the last of Skinny Malone’s voice as Nick sealed the cap once again.
“Jeez, you’d think an old-school mobster who just got his heart stomped on would be more forgiving.” I chortled, staring up at the night’s sky. Nick gave a surprised chuckle. I could feel his eyes on me but it was easy to tune it out this time. Laying on the asphalt I let the crisp breeze relieve my body of its sticky sweat. I focused on my breathing, the rise and fall of my stomach. I was actually alive. “That was quite possibly the stupidest thing I’ve ever done.”
“Saving me?” I nodded, and he laughed again. “You mind telling me why you did? Or who you are?”
“I told you who I am.”
“Oh, c’mon.” I couldn’t help but giggle again at his frustration. I finally sat up, leaning back onto the palms of my hands.
“I went to your agency and your secretary said you were missing. You weren’t around to save yourself so I told her I would.”
“Okay, but why?” I curled my legs in to sit criss-cross, struggling to find the right words.
“I need your help… I’m looking for someone.” I picked at the skin around my finger nails, but kept eye contact with him as I spoke. He extended his metal hand out to help me up.
“Well, I’d say you’ve earned the right to tell your story.” Once I was back on my feet I brushed some of the dirt of pebbles off of my hands and jeans. “Let’s head back to my office. You can get a chance to unload your mind.” He said it like it was a good thing. The idea of voluntarily remembering what happened sent a spike of anxiety through my whole body. We had a decent walk back though. Plenty of time to think of ways to put it off.
It turns out Nick was an excellent travelling companion. Usually I enjoyed the still silence but listening to his stories of ‘the old days’ was both intriguing and hilarious. He talked about the cat and mouse chase that ensued between him and his old friend, Skinny Malone. There was something familiar about listening to him. Somehow it felt like a little window to before the blast. Even though he was recalling memories that had only happened some years before then, it felt like he was talking about the streets of Boston as it was two-hundred years ago.
The strangest mixture of dread and relief washed over me once we made it back to Diamond City. I almost got myself killed trying to get to this point, and yet part of me wished it had killed me. It sounded better than reliving what happened.
The town was silent under the midnight stars, so different from how I had left it. The occasional guard popping out from the shadows to patrol the market. Walking through, we would grab their attention but I noticed once they saw Nick they weren’t bothered with us anymore.
Back at the agency, the detective stepped in tentatively, I’m sure not to startle his secretary who was most likely sleeping.
“El, you here?”
“Nick?” I watched him smile as there was a sudden shuffle of footsteps from the private quarters. He silently invited me in, shutting the door behind us. Ellie came running in from the hall, her eyes obviously sleepless. “Oh my god, you’re alive. You’re actually here.”
“Try not to be too disappointed.” Nick said with a smirk. She ran over and embraced him, and he accepted it warmly. He gave her head a fond pat after breaking their hug. I noticed the tiny tears that had formed in her eyes. She wiped them away before they had the chance to fall. Suddenly her face turned into a scowl as she crossly set her hands on her hips.
“I told you it was a trap. You could have died.”
“A trap would mean they knew I was coming. They just got a lucky shot.” They bickered like that for awhile. In the meantime I let my bag fall off my back and onto the ground. I plopped onto a nearby chair, that had definitely seen better days. It was still a relief for the throbbing soles of my feet.
At first I tried to follow their conversation, but my brain would start to phase the sound away and replace it with emptiness. A quiet nothing feeling embraced me, where the only thing that was being processed was the sight of the robot moving from one paper stack to the next.
At some point Ellie stopped and pulled me from my trance to thank me and I believe I responded politely. She disappeared to bed some time after that, but I didn’t notice. I was back in my disassociation, my eyes only tracking the little movement in the room.
The flow of Nick’s patched trench coat. A scratch on the back of his neck. I wasn’t sure if I was even awake anymore. It was oddly satisfying, like meditating specifically on the moment.
“You’re staring.” The detective’s voice rang in my head before I realized he was actually speaking to me. He had sat down at the desk in front of me, and pulled a screwdriver from one of the drawers. “Have you ever met a synth before?” He asked as he started fiddling with some of the screws in his exposed hand.
"Oh, uh… no, but that’s not- uh…” I attempted to rub the sand out of my eyes but it was useless. I dropped my hands into my lap and sighed as I looked back at him. “Sorry. I'm just tired. I should head over to the Dugout and let you settle in. We can meet up in the morning." When I rose from the chair it felt as if I had spent all day there. Every joint in my body ached, begging for a proper rest.
"You could. Or you could use my bed tonight if you want." His statement actually woke me a bit from my state.
"You want me to sleep in your bed?" I raised an eyebrow at him.
"You don't have to. I don’t sleep so it’s not like I use it. I figured it would save you a few caps, and I thought I'd offer since you saved my life and all." I gave a soft laugh. The idea of walking just a few steps to a bed, as opposed to across the diamond, did sound appealing to me.
"You don't even know me. I could be some sort of con artist."
"I'll have to keep a close eye on you then, won't I?"
His bed, bedroom area, was up on a loft above Ellie’s. I climbed up the ladder quietly as she slept. My leather armor was shed to the floor, along with my blue flannel overshirt and heavy brown boots. I crawled onto the mattress and curled up happily under the light blanket. I don’t even remember closing my eyes. My mind just drifted back into the peaceful blackness.
A steady wind makes it's way across the Mojave, pushing sparse puffs of sand and dust across the darkness. Dark clouds envelope the stars, but the cold sliver of moon shines through, uselessly dim compared even to the dying embers of their campfire.
Boone wakes to this darkness. The wind chilling him enough that he curls himself into a tight ball, trying to recapture his dreams. He can hear a soft hum in the distance, and he closes his eyes to it for a moment. As he listens, he can almost swear it sounds like words...
“How many roads must a man walk down...”
His eyes open again. Words. Definitely words. He sits up, sleep already fleeing from his body as he stretches his arms out in front of him and reaches instinctively for his rifle.
“How many seas must a white dove sail,
before she sleeps in the sand?”
Not words. Singing. Strange thing to hear in the middle of the Mojave, during the deadest hours of the night. He pauses and looks towards the Courier's bedroll. Empty. Despite the traces of grogginess, he's able to put two and two together. He sets the rifle down and gets quietly to his feet.
“And how many times must the cannonballs fly
before they're forever banned?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind
The answer is blowin' in the wind”
The song isn't unfamiliar. The guards down at the Old Mormon Fort sing it from time to time, he's come to associate it with them. Even caught Arcade humming it one day while he made Stimpaks. He glances around the area. About a hundred feet south of their campsite is a ruined building with nothing left but some of the wooden beams and a single crumbling wall. Boone starts towards it.
“Yes, and how many years can a mountain exist,
before it is washed to the sea?”
The singing is clearer, louder, as he approaches. It's a surprisingly deep tenor, doesn't really seem right for the song. But it's pleasant. The tone is steady, and the words seem to have more weight. He draws in closer, finally able to make out the top of the Courier's shadow in the dim moonlight, creeping out just slightly from behind the wall. Even as a shadow, his tangled mass of hair makes him easy to spot.
“And how many years can some people exist
before they're allowed to be free?”
Boone approaches silently. Until he's standing on the other side of the wall, wondering what has driven him to spy on the Courier in such a way. It's uncharacteristic of him to be so nosy, and he knows that's exactly why the Courier tends to travel with him more than the others. He's the only person who never does this kind of thing. Yet here he stands. As bad as the rest of them.
There's a soft sniffle, and a long sigh. Is the Courier.. crying? He shifts uncomfortably, ready to head back and pretend like this didn't happen.
"And how many times can a man turn his head
and pretend that he just doesn't see?”
The words cause something in his stomach to drop. He creeps just slightly closer, and quietly presses his back to the wall, almost able to feel the Courier on the other side.
“The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind,
The answer is blowin' in the wind...”
Boone hears the Courier take a loud gulp of air, followed by a shaky breath. Boone allows himself to slide down the wall, until he's seated. Without really thinking about it, he reaches a hand into his pocket and withdraws his harmonica. Hardly uses it anymore. Not even sure why he still carries it. Only reason he learned was to pass the time while he was with the NCR, only kept doing it because Carla liked to listen. He holds it to his lips, feeling a small tug inside his chest as he does.
“Yes, and how many times must a man look up...”
He blows into it. Trying to match the tune. It's slow enough. Simple enough. There's a pause.
“...Before he can see the sky?
Yes, and how many ears must one man have
Before he can hear people cry?”
The music is shaky at first, but manages to steady out, lining up perfectly with the song. Boone closes his eyes and listens to the Courier's voice gain strength.
“Yes, and how many deaths will it take till he knows
that too many people have died?
The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind
The answer is blowin' in the wind...”
A thin haze hung in the air at the Lucky 38, and the smell of boiled maize and fried gecko meat gently wrapped itself around Veronica as she stepped off the elevator.
“Oh my god. Do you think she left the stove on again?”
Cass tilted her head back, sniffing the air, “Nah, that's not the smell of burning casino. Plus I don't think Six has touched the stove since Raul caught her with all those mushed up Fancy Lad's Snack Cakes burning to the bottom of the pot.”
Veronica sighed, stepping towards the kitchen. “Such a waste.”
“Yeah. Not exactly sure what she thought she was making, but I s'pose everyone has to learn eventually that cooking is only for the sober or the talented.” She chuckled.“I sure as shit did.”
The scent of food was joined by an earthier scent as the scribe approached the kitchen door. She stopped just in front of the door, and gave Cass a wide-eyed glance. “What if she's brewing chems?”
Cass simply chuckled at that, then reached past Veronica and pushed the door open.
A thicker layer of smoke floated out towards them. Cass strode casually through the doorway, Veronica followed cautiously.
Inside, Six sat with her elbows on the table, taking a long drag from a cigarette. To her left was Raul, who sat with his head tiled back, snoring. To her right was Boone, who slumped in his chair with his arms folded, staring off into space, looking uncharacteristically relaxed. On the table were several plates containing only a few scraps of food. Arcade stood near the sink, squinting his eyes and looking quite unsure of what to do with himself. Nobody even glanced in their direction for a good few moments, not until ED-E floated over their heads, beeping excitedly.
“Hm, huh?” The Courier's head lifted slightly, her eyes slowly moving to the spot where her friends stood. “Oh.”
“Oh?” Cass cocked her eyebrow, “Havin' a party without me, and 'oh's all you can say?”
“Party?” Asked the Courier, then she looked at the cigarette in her hand, almost like she'd forgotten it was there.“Oh.” She took another long drag, exhaling a large cloud of smoke. “Not much of a party. Just trying to relax.” She handed Boone the cigarette and he put it to his lips.
Veronica's mouth hung open a bit. “I don't really understand. Six, you don't smoke?”
“I don't smoke cigarettes.” The Courier corrected. “Smoke plenty of this though. It's good for my arthritis.”
Arcade rolled his eyes. “You don't have arthritis.”
“Good for my shot-in-the-head-itis, then. Whatever.” She chuckled.
Cass wrapped her arm over Veronica's shoulders. “Seriously, you've been traveling with Six longer than most of us here, and you've never partaken?”
“I.. uh, no?”
“That. Is. Awesome. Arcade! Let's hook this lady up.”
Veronica ducked out from under the redhead's arm. “Uh, that's alright. I think I'll pass.”
Six sat up and beckoned at her. “Come on Ronnie, live a little. Hell, even Boone's managed to chill out for once in his goddamned life.” With her free hand, she patted the sniper on the head, knocking his beret slightly askew. He didn't even bother looking annoyed, he simply took another puff from the cigarette before Six snatched it away again. “Stop hoggin' it!”
Cass dragged the scribe over to the table and sat down in the nearest available chair. “My turn!” She said, reaching over the table towards Six.
“This one's almost toast anyway, why don't you just roll us another?”
“How 'bout you do it?”
“I would, but I'm trying to smoke this one.” She coughed out another large cloud of smoke, then looked towards the sink. “Arcade, it's all up to you.”
“Why me?”
“Because Boone's clearly too high, and Cass's joints are always crap. Seriously, they usually look like deathclaw cocks.”
Boone huffed a quiet laugh at that, to which Veronica could only gape in amazement.
Cass snorted. “What does a deathclaw cock even look like?”
Six shrugged. “I kinda thought the same way their horns do, hey Arcade...”
“I am not a practitioner of deathclaw medicine, and I'm honestly offended you would think to ask.”
“What? No. I was gonna tell you to hurry it up with that joint.”
Veronica reached towards the plate nearest her and retrieved the last piece of gecko steak, nibbling at it quietly as she took the seat beside Cass. She looked over at Arcade and noticed that he was crumbling up plant matter with his fingers, and placing it into a careful pile on the counter, slowly building it up into a small green mountain. She turned back towards Six, who was trying to give her a dirty look, but the redness of her eyes lessened the effect.
“What?”
“That last piece of gecko was mine.”
Cass pointed towards the Courier accusingly. “But you probably had all the other pieces too, didn't you?”
“She did.” Said Boone, cracking an honest-to-god smile.
“Liar! It was you!” Six punched him lightly in the shoulder, “I almost can't smoke with you when we go hunting or you'll eat all the rations while you're on watch.”
He only shrugged. “Better that way. Can carry more kills home with us.”
“Still not as bad as you though, Cass...”
“Woah now, don't make this about me. You know food's the only way I can sober--”
“JIMMY! ARE YOU AND YOUR LITTLE FRIENDS PLAYING IN THE KITCHEN?”
Cass froze mid-sentence. Six's eyes went wide with horror. Arcade looked slowly over his shoulder at her, eyebrows raised. Even Raul's snoring seemed to suddenly stop. Veronica looked from person to person, stunned by their rapid change in demeanor. Only the sniper remained completely the same, still slumped in his chair, seemingly oblivious to the others' concern.
The kitchen door burst open, shattering the small pause. ED-E's battle music blared. Raul toppled out of his chair. Six rapidly scurried to snuff out the remainder of her joint and Arcade swept his arm across the counter, sending the little mountain of crumbled herbs to the floor. Veronica whipped around just in time to see Lily come crashing into the kitchen, and the door cracking the wall behind it from the force with which it was opened. “JIMMY! WHAT WOULD YOUR MOTHER SAY?”
Six practically leapt out of her seat. “It was all Veronica's fault!”
That night, and only that night. He follows the Courier up to the Penthouse.
Arcade and Veronica had teamed up in a rare moment of genius to override the security measures that disallowed anyone but Six from accessing that floor from the elevator. However, they had concluded that since they did all the technical work, that it was only fair for Boone to do the dirty work. A horrible idea if he'd ever heard one. Boone wasn't in the business of spying on people, and unlike Arcade and Veronica, he also held very little interest in the Courier's private affairs. He also held very little interest in the 'valid reasons' that the two had for their invasive curiosities.
Boone, if nothing else, was a soldier. Soldiers follow orders, and even when those orders are insane, it isn't a soldier's job to go questioning the reasons for their CO's insanity. This much he had said to Arcade as the man poorly tried to persuade him. The doctor's response had been cutting. “Isn't unquestioningly following orders where things went wrong for you in the first place?” The sniper had nearly punched the glasses off that idiot's head.
It did the trick though, in the end. The doctor was always right, of course, and now here he is, standing in the elevator as it climbs agonizingly slow towards the forbidden zone of the Lucky 38.
Killing Mr. House weighed heavily on her, that much he knew. In her eyes, he could see that she felt like a traitor. Felt like she had squashed humanity's salvation and taken the burden onto herself. Seemed stupid to him, but he never said so. Maybe he should have.
As the doors to the lift slide open, he moves as quietly as he can and peers down the stairs where he sees first a large control panel with a huge monitor that reads Connection Lost... He then spies the courier sitting on the floor, surrounded by liquor bottles, jet canisters...
And something wrapped in bandages. It's shaped like a body, but too impossibly thin to be so. It sits less than a foot in front of her. Something in his stomach drops, he should leave, he really should leave. However, as he starts to back away, he swears he can the Courier talking. Words that are too faint to hear, but as the doors to the elevator slide shut behind him, the murmur of her voice stays inside his head.
When the elevator reaches the Presidential Suite, he has no words to to explain to the others what he saw. All he has is a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach, as the Courier's soft mumbling voice echos through his mind. It won't stop. He knows better. The sickness he feels pushes upwards, and he finds himself suppressing a laugh.
Madness isn't contagious, but somehow, he knows he has caught the Courier's madness.
