Chapter Text
Cynthia took a deep inhale of the humid air, watching the radioactive remains of last night's deluge evaporate off the roofs in the sun. She looked down at the gutter that ran under her window, and cupped a hand, lowering it into a small buildup of water and lifting it to her mouth.
God did she hate being mildly radioactive, but at least the rads killed most of the bacteria that'd make her sick. She went to drink another handful, and heard somebody politely clear their throat.
'I, uh, wouldn't do that if I were you. There's a lotta heavy metals in that water from all the rust.'
Standing on one of the catwalks that led up to the temp house, steam billowing up behind him, was the detective she'd hired. He was in that old coat she'd seen hung in his office last night, and... the same clothes. He looked kind of well-dressed but ragged, his shoulders all slumped. Despite all that, he had a small smile on his face, like he had just been thinking of something he was looking forward to. The sun shone through the ripped up plastic in his right jaw, making his face glow. It was.... certainly an interesting sight. Cynthia couldn't help but snort.
She let the water run down between her fingertips, waving them a bit and wiping them on the side of the house before holding up a finger for Nick to wait. He nodded, and walked the rest of the way up to the deck in front of the house. A minute later, Cynthia stepped out, wearing some armor, a side cloak, the pinstriped suit, and... a tiny bowler hat? Or maybe it just seemed small.
'Like the hat.' Nick said, asking a silent question.
'Belonged to my daddy. Same with th' suit.' She explained as they started down to the town center.
'Ahh, was wondering about that too. It's all very... dapper.'
They passed by Power Noodles, only stopped when Piper descended upon them out of seemingly nowhere.
'Hi Nick!'
'Oh, hey, Pipes. How's-'
'And who's this tall glass of water?' You could tell Piper had gotten her hands on some coffee recently. Or maybe Jet? Who the fuck knew. She had that extra gleam in her eye, smile wide as ever as she she looked his companion up and down. She held out a hand to shake, which Cynthia obliged.
'Name's Cynthia Athanasiou. I'm Mr. Valentine's client.'
'Oh really? Care to stop in for a short interview after your outing? Always happy to put in a few good words about *Mr. Valentine* in an article, and always interested in interviewing mysterious out-of-towners!'
The way Piper emphasized his name made him give her a flat look. She winked at him, putting an extra bit of sunshine in her smile. Ugh.
Cynthia's smile didn't change, but her eyes widened a bit.
'O-oh really. Ah, sure, that sounds-'
'Great! You just swing by whenever, I'm working on the next print and I'm only halfway through so anytime between now and.... in about 3 days would be great!'
'Alright then. Sounds like a date.'
Piper giggled. 'Flirt.' To which Cynthia surprisingly smiled, and said 'Takes one to know one, honey'.
Piper made a face of exaggerated shock, a surprised laugh being punched out of her, and she turned to Nick with an incredulous look. Before she could say anything else, Cynthia's hand was on his shoulder, pushing a bit as she guided them both up onto the ramp out of Diamond City. He only glanced back once to see Piper still standing there, hands on her hips as she shook her head, chuckling still.
They waited just inside the gate as one of the guards picked off some ferals that had been idling around nearby since the night before.
'My daddy helped run a casino.'
They were picking up where they'd left off on that conversation, then. Nick nodded, though he frowned and looked up at her.
'Don't know any functioning casinos around here... was he from down south?'
She sighed out of her nose. He didn't know if that meant she was annoyed for having to tell her story, but she spoke again anyway.
'South and all the way west, in Vegas. Man made some big mistakes, took his nicest clothes, and fucked off across the US until he reached the Hudson. That's how far they said he'd have to go 'fore they'd let him off the chain. They thought he'd die or go feral 'fore he got halfway here.'
Nick took that all in, nodding slowly.
'He sounds like a resilient man.'
'Well, he wasn't good for nothin'. A champion runner.'
The last feral went down, and the guards opened the gate, letting them through. As soon as they were out, Cynthia revealed what had been under the cloak draped over one side of her: a HUGE hand cannon that had to be made specifically for super mutants. She checked the cylinder, and nodded to herself before holding it by her side.
'A six-cylinder, huh? Same here.'
She scoffed when he held up his pipe revolver, shaking her head.
'Oh nooo, we've got awful party balance. Too many revolvers.'
That got an eyeroll from him. She didn't know it, but he'd heard the same sort of thing, said unironically by Nate, before the man decided to give Nick an actual fucking Fat Man to bring into fights. Just casually launch a few mini-nukes at some raiders or whoever. He was pretty sure the man had been hitting some chem that made him a bit too enthusiastic about everything, and yeah, it had turned out to be expired antidepressants and Jet. Fun.
'Yeah? You got anything you could swap to? Sorry to say, but I tend to travel light, only the one weapon.'
Cynthia nodded, pulling a normal-sized backpack that served as a hip pack for her, and digging through it. Out came a hunting rifle and sawed-off, the first of which she pulled out in exchange for the hand cannon.
'I'll cover some of our range. I'm a bit of a walkin' snipe tower anyway, I can see farther so I 'spose it suits me.'
The synth huffed a laugh at that, and they continued on.
/////////////////
Nick was ducked behind some shitty cover, quickly and fluidly putting more bullets in the chamber of his pistol. Another *crack* rang out as Cynthia took a shot with the rifle, and he heard a little *k-ching* in the distance when it connected. She'd been pretty consistent with her shots so far, but she seemed to be bad at getting out of the way quickly when someone got an angle on her. He was pretty sure she had at least a few bullets in her now, but she was still standing.
'How're we doing?' He called, putting in the last of the bullets ans spinning it once- a tic he sometimes did.
Cynthia ducked down, looking him in the eyes and showing off a row of 3 bullet wounds down one leg. Nick cringed, then looked up at her again, but she seemed unphased. She held up three fingers, then pointed in 3 different directions with a number after each. One at 10 o'clock, one at 11, and one at 3. He nodded, popped up, and immediately nailed the one at 3 o'clock.
As he ducked back down, he heard her mutter an impressed 'damn' under her breath. Nick smiled to himself, then moved a bit to the left and popped back up, taking a second to aim, and-
The raider went down, but... that gunshot was not from him.
If he had blood it would have turned to ice.
'Nice one, Valentine!' He heard Cynthia call from somewhere. Had she moved? No, wait, it'd be stupid to call from new cover, it'd alert the last one to where she was. Nick felt like he was experiencing VATS, or at leats how Nate described it, his movements slow but his mind running at normal speed. He slowly turned, scanning behind him, and-
Nothing. No flickering coattail, no shadow ducking behind a doorway, not even the millisecond-long flash of light reflecting off a barrel.
'Fuck.' He spat, shaking his head to get himself out of the mindspace he was in. He peeked over his cover just in time to see the last raider fall from one of Cynthia's shots, and a few seconds later, an explosion happened where they'd been standing a second ago. Kamikazes, ugh. They always unnerved him.
He stood, scanning for any half-alive survivors, then started walking through the remains of the abandoned shantytown they'd tried to rest in unsuccessfully. This place wasn't one he'd ever seen before- it was a 2-levelled little street with only about 5 buildings, and a shoddily build outdoor level of walkways made of rotting planks and scrap. Pretty much made for a shootout, and yet they'd only fought 5 people. That was, of course, if there weren't more hiding, silent as mice. Nick kept his gun out, scanning his surroundings as he came up next to Cynthia.
'Hey, nice shootin', Tex. 'Specially that 11 o'clock, I didn't even see you pop.'
He shook his head, waving a distracted hand at her.
'No, uh, no problem. Let's- let's move on.’
She blinked at him, but then shrugged and checked her rifle, putting more bullets in it before slinging it onto her back.
'Get your cannon out,' Nick muttered to her, checking his own gun. 'There may be more in hiding.'
Cynthia nodded, pulling out the gun and checking the cylinder. Nick was done doing the same, when his metal hand suddenly spasmed. He hissed, reaching to steady it with the hand covered in pale pseudoflesh, and...
'Not right now...' He said under his breath. Dammit, his tremor was back. How the fuck a machine could have something that was supposed to only be caused by deficiencies and brain trauma, he had barely any idea. Maybe he was programmed to have it. Maybe he mimicked the original Nick Valentine so well he couldn't escape things like this. After all, he still had the damn smoking habit-
BANG.
He had to give himself some credit for not flinching when the gunshot pulled him out of his thoughts, instead coolly drawing his own gun to point at the already-dead radroach.
'That came outta nowhere, damn.' Said Cynthia, sounding shocked. She looked at her own hand, holding the still-smoking gun.
'Don't usually have reflexes that fast, guess I got lucky.'
Nick huffed a small laugh.
'You get lucky a lot. Still can't believe you found that time capsule full of collector's-edition bottlecaps a while back. This entire area's been picked clean for at least a decade.'
They'd gotten out of range of the town now, walking along an old, cracked road.
She hummed, a deep sound.
'Seems to happen to me a lot more these days. 'Course, I say it's cause I always carry around my lil' bobblehead.'
Nick looked at her curiously, and she held the look for a second, looking right into his eyes, before digging in her pack.
'Since we're outta that town, I spose it's safe to show you.'
From the depths of the pack, a Vault Boy bobblehead was produced. Nick took one look at it and wheezed quietly, holding his metal hand up near his mouth to suppress a laugh.
'Yeah, he's a lil' leprechaun, ain't that cute? Ever since I found 'im when I was workin' with some dredgers out near the coast, my luck's been real interestin'.'
'How about that.' Nick responded, bringing out a Grey Tortoise and a lighter. His hand jolted again when he tried to light it, but it wasn't his tremor. Cynthia had lightly swatted his arm.
'What, you don't believe in luck?'
'I believe that the wasteland's weird. Constantly changing. And so is luck. Luck never lasts. A bobblehead can only get you so far.'
Cynthia huffed at that.
'Then I guess we can stand to get along. You wouldn't try to convince me I'm dead wrong and that I should throw lil' Coop here away?'
'Coop?'
'Cooper Howard. Vault Boy. My daddy used to play the Vault-Tec commercials on repeat for us when I was little. Can still recite 'em word-for-word.'
He raised a barely-there eyebrow.
'Word-for-word, huh?'
She took a breath, then recited a spiel she'd obviously heard a million times before, the inflections practiced and perfected.
'Oh! Hello there! Yep, it's me, Cooper Howard. Star of stage and screen. But I'm not here today to talk to you about my latest picture. No, today I'm here to show you a vast and... wonderful place. Not made by God Almighty, but the working man. A veritable Camelot of the nuclear age. Now how bout we turn on some lights.'
Nick listened, a tiny bit impressed, as she went through the entire script of a commercial that... he could swear he so vaguely remembered. Not perfectly, definitely not, but as she went on, it started to feel familiar. However, he knew better than to think it was anything more than 200-year-old memories trying to claw their way to the front. He bitterly took a deep draw from his cig as she finished with the spiel.
'Because if the worst should happen tomorrow... the world is gonna need Americans just like you to build a better day after. And it'd say "Call Now! 213-25 VAULT" on the screen.'
A cloud drifted past Nick's head, and he nodded.
'Alright, alright, you've convinced me. Wouldn't've told you to throw away the bobbler-'
'Coop.'
'Coop, in the first place, but I definitely won't now. You've obviously got an appreciation for the man.'
'Do I ever. Best action star of the 2070's. Easy on the eyes, too.'
She drew out the word "eyes", waggling her eyebrows at Nick unevenly, and he ducked his head down to hide a smile.
////////////
The sun was setting. They'd been trekking along a long, flat highway for a while, when Cynthia suddenly nudged Nick's arm and jerked her head at the burnt trees to one side. He followed her through the ruined forest, trying not to pay too much attention to how bare and lifeless everything was around here. He didn't know the area, but he could just imagine how much more lush the trees would've been... Green leaves, brown bark....
Nick's optics stopped on something that was... in between the trees. It seemed to be 5 feet up and a slightly different color from the bark-
'Nicky. Come on. We can't stop here.'
He shook himself out of the moment and continued on, frowning and blinking owlishly. He thought he hadn't been obvious with the staring, damn.
'Nicky??' He said, a bit accusatory. Cynthia had the decency to shrug her shoulders in close.
'Slipped out. Won't call you that if you don't like. Didn't mean to be so familiar.'
'Wasn't familiar, per se, just- well, we've just met. I'm used to clients being less than impersonal. Even downright rude, like that jackass *Danse*.'
'Hmm.' Came a hum from the tall woman, as they stepped out of the woods and onto a long field of trampled, dead grass.
At the end of the field, on a small hill, was what he assumed to be the homestead she'd briefly mentioned. It looked like it had once been a barn, but had been repurposed into a farmhouse. Nick now felt less doubtful of the idea that Cynthia had perhaps not heard someone picking the lock- unless the inner walls of the place were 10-inch-thick concrete, you could probably hear a pin drop inside from any corner, especially in the silence of night.
'Cute little place. I can see why you'd wanna raise a kid here.'
'Mmmmhm. There's Minutemen posted 'bout a mile away too. Real safe, a single gunshot goes off in my direction and they never fail to send out a lil' group to check up on us. Good people, they is.'
Nod nod. Nick agreed, though the Minutemen were still fractured and in small groups, they never failed to do good for the people of the wasteland.
He'd been about to take a casual step when Cynthia suddenly hissed a breath.
'Hey stop a sec.' Came out in a rush from her, one hand about to grab his shoulder. Confused, he did his best to stop his foot mid-step, swaying a bit.
'About to step on a landmine, aren't I.'
'Nah, tripwire. I done set 'em up before I left for Diamond City. Part of what took me so long to get here- ain't the smartest, so these are kinda crude.'
'I dunno, they look good- well, they don't look like anything. I don't see any wire.'
Cynthia crouched, motioning for where it was safe for him to step, then with one finger, she lightly hooked a very taut wire that was a very close color to the dead grass. Nick made a soft 'ahaaaaa' sound, now inspecting the area around them more carefully. Yes, the tripwires were way more visible now that he knew they were there. He could spot some other shoddily-made traps to the sides, and then came to a stop, looking straight down.
'...Cynthia.'
'Hm?'
'Is this?...'
It took a moment, but she got up and came over, looking down... into a pit in the ground that had crude wooden stakes poking up from the bottom. There was a barely-clothed body impaled on one.
'....Yeah. 'S a tiger trap.' She bent down low, carefully grabbing one of the body's arms and inspecting it.
'....Feral.' She said, nodding and holding up the hand for Nick to see. It looked like any other ghoul's hand.
'How can you be sure?' He stepped aside as she kneeled on the edge, wrenching the body up and carrying it around the chest.
'I've known lotsa ghoulies in the past. They always get some nasty-ass varicose veins right before they turn. Look at this arm here.'
Nick let out a low whistle- it was like there were thick wires embedded under the skin, and they'd turned almost black in color.
'Weird, though....'
He looked up at her when she pulled the body up to peer at their face.
'What's weird?'
'I dunno, just... lot more green in the eyes than you usually see. Means radiation, of course. Wonder where this'un came from, n' why I ain't seen more 'round... S' probably just a wanderer. Or some poor fuck who was lost and lookin' for help and turned just before they died tryin' to get to th' house.'
Nick nodded solemnly, feeling sympathy for the poor soul. At least, if they had turned, they probably hadn't been lucid when they died...
He lit up a cig as they reached the place. Cynthia had been carrying the body easily with one arm (Jesus she was strong), and dug around in a pocket with the other hand for her key. The smell inside the farmhouse was stale, but comforting, like a woodpile. Kind of reminded the old synth of his home office, and he was suddenly consumed by wondering over whether he was thinking of his current office, or that of the old Nick, prewar. He heard Cynthia tell him to make himself at home, and it felt like he didn't walk so much as glide to sit at the little table with 2 chairs that was across from the doorway. The main room was small, but that was because internal walls had been put up to section off 2 other rooms. a ladder next to the wall led up into a loft space that had been turned into what seemed to be a child's bedroom and playspace- probably Sylvester's.
While Nick was still taking in all the details, Cynthia came back in through the door to the outside- he hadn't even noticed she'd left, he was so preoccupied. He sat up a bit more, smoothing out his coat as she sat down across from him, hands gritty with dirt.
'Did you, uh.... dig the hole with your hands, then?' He joked, gesturing at her.
An eyebrow was raised, then she nodded. Oops he hadn't thought she actually did. Uh, new subject, uhhh-
'Looking at this place now.... I understand the case a little better. This place is small, and you say you sleep light. Should've been all manner of creaks and sounds that any intruder would've made before they ever got up to your boy.'
Cynthia nodded, sighing as she looked up at the loft. It seemed like she had something on her mind, so Nick let things sit until she was ready to say more.
'You ever had a kid of your own, Mr. Valentine?'
That was not what he was expecting. He accidentally took a bigger pull from his cigarette than he'd meant to, and some smoke came out of his nose. Embarrassing, but he pretended he'd meant to do it.
'You mean.... in the last hundred years or so?' He started, haltingly. Cynthia seemed to be trying to find some common ground between them; this wouldn't be it, but he could respect it. She was far from the worst person he'd travelled with (fuck you Danse), and he wasn't against letting her know a bit more about himself. As it was, she blinked at his question.
'I, uh.... I'll be honest.... I know next t' nothin' 'bout synths. Didn't know you folk could do much other'n pillage towns for their scrap n' resources. Sure was surprised when I heard the best Detective in the 'Wealth was a synth, but here you are. So... yeah. I guess I'm askin' about however long you been 'round.'
She had been a bit too blunt with that, she knew, it was written on her face. Honestly, Nick could understand, everyone was hesitant around him at first.
'Well, first thing is we can't exactly.... *have* a kid. None of us can. 'Course there's adoption, but.... well... I'm....'
Long sigh. Here comes the life story.
'I'm *complicated.* See, when I first came online- my earliest memories, I should say...'
Turns out Cynthia did know that synths could have memories transplanted into them from a human. She accepted that well enough. However, she seemed very interested in the idea that he'd simply just... found himself outside the Institute one night.
'You think you mighta detective'd your way outta there, Nick? Gave 'em all th' slip?'
He laughed a little at "detective'd", and secretly thought about using that for himself.
'Maybe. Who's to say for sure. Either way, I found my way into a job that supports me, in a city that's clean if not....ugh, filled with rich snobs who'd kill a ghoul soon as look at them, and I get to travel a lot. But it's a dangerous kind of job, too. You don't bring a kid into that equation.'
'Fair 'nuff.' She said, nodding. 'Just asked t'see if you had any experience with this sorta thing firsthand. A child goin' missing.'
'Well.... I actually do, is the thing, but before I tell you about that, I want to ask you some more questions now that we're back here. Can you remember any details, anything at all, no matter how small, that you might not have told me about before? Feel free to stand and walk around if you think that'd jog your memory.'
Cynthia remained seated, but she sat back some, closing her eyes and taking in a deep breath.
'I remember.... wakin' up with just... an absolute *mother* of a headache.....'
'Possibly from a blow to the head?' He said, writing.
'No blood or bruises that I could find, and it was all over.'
That idea was crossed out, and below it was written "chloroform???". He waved a hand. 'Go on, what else?'
'... Smelled like tire smoke outside that mornin', when I charged outside the house, seein' red. Like someone had made a bonfire of old tires, but it was faint. And no scorch marks or remainders or nothin'. Not even tracks.'
'Ahh, but that could mean they were *near* a tire fire. That's useful, definitely narrows our search pattern.'
'Alright....' She pinched at the bridge of her nose, then held up a hand.
'I'm gettin' some herbals to try 'n clear my sinuses. You want anything?'
'I'm good with the cigarettes, thanks. I don't digest food, I just eat it.'
She shrugged, and went over to the little kitchen area, pulling out a few things and starting to boil some bottled water. One hand was waved at him after a moment.
'I think better when I'm workin' with my hands, keep askin'.'
'Alright, then...' Nick idly scanned the room, taking it all in, and had a new question on his synthetic tongue, when he decided to glance out the window next to him and froze.
There was a huge deathclaw staring back, face inches from the windowpane. Its scales were the same color as the bark of the trees in the area, its horns were like two blades pointing directly at him, and it had giant blue crystals protruding from all along its body.
That's all the analysis his brain had time for before it raised a clawed hand towards the window, and he fell out of his seat.