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It was a rare day for the Valentine Detective Agency to be so quiet. Sole and Ellie had stepped out for dinner, and Nick decided to take advantage of the solitude to catch up on paperwork. It had been some time since he had a quiet evening at home.
The sound of footsteps outside the agency startled him from his thoughts. He expected it to be one of the gals, but when the door opened, a well-dressed ghoul in a gray suit stepped in. Nick hadn’t seen him around Diamond City before. He wondered how a ghoul managed to get past the guards, but he decided not to ask. He didn’t want to know. Likely as not, the fellow would be just as confused about how a synth managed to get into the city.
“Come on in,” Nick said. “What can I do for you?”
The ghoul looked him over with reserved suspicion. Nick had seen that look plenty of times. Enough times to know that the best way to help someone see past appearances was to play it casual.
He took the pack of cigarettes from his desk drawer.
“Can I offer you one?”
“Sure. Thanks,” the ghoul said.
Something about his voice struck him as oddly familiar. Even the way he lit his cigarette seemed like something Nick had seen before. The sight gave him pause.
“Have a seat, friend,” Nick said.
“Mind if I make myself comfortable?” the ghoul asked, already shedding his gray jacket.
“Sure, sure.”
He draped it over the back of the chair and sat down.
“So,” he took a drag. “You’re the fella who finds missing people and all that jazz?”
“That’s right,” Nick said, lighting one up for himself. “Got someone you need finding?”
“My problem is more complicated than that. You see, my identity’s been stolen.”
“And you want me to track down this thief, is that it?”
“No, I’ve already found him.”
Nick raised an eyebrow at the ghoul.
“If you’re just looking for a hit man, I’m not your guy,” he said.
“I don’t want to kill him. I just want to talk to him.”
“I guess I can arrange that,” Nick picked up a pen and a clean sheet of paper. “Got a name, friend?”
“Nick Valentine.”
“Yeah, that’s me.”
“No it ain’t.”
Nick cast him a sidelong glance.
“What kind of game are you playing?” he said.
The ghoul took another drag.
“No games. You’re the guy I’m looking to talk to.”
“What, you think I’m the one who stole your identity? I hate to break it to you, pal, but—”
The realization struck him with all the subtlety of a bus. The pencil fell from his hand. He looked up at the ghoul on the other side of the desk.
“You mean to say that—that you’re—?”
The ghoul nodded—Nick Valentine nodded. The original, pre-war Nick Valentine.
It was more than Nick could process. He froze.
“So, ‘Mr. Valentine.’ You wanna tell me how long you’ve been running around, wearing my name like you own it?”
Nick couldn’t speak. He could hardly move. Pure shock held him in place.
“Heh. I can almost hear those gears turning. What’s the matter, cat got your tongue?”
It couldn’t be real. There was no way—it had to be a trick.
“This is a real sick joke, you know that?” he said. His voice carried an edge that surprised him.
“Do I look like I’m trying to be funny?” Valentine said.
“Alright, you wanna be that way? Then prove it. Prove you’re really—” Nick couldn’t bring himself to say the name.
“I don’t need to prove anything to you,” Valentine said. He tugged at the points of his vest and settled deeper into the chair. “I know who I am. But I’d sure like to figure out just who the hell you are. So it’s story time, whatever your name is. You wanna go first, or should I?”
Nick tried to find his voice, but his mind ran wild with memories. He knew why that face was familiar; he had seen a smoother version in the mirror a thousand times. That raspy voice narrated the few moments with Jennifer he still had. And the way he dressed, the way he talked, the way he carried himself—he knew it all.
He had stolen it all.
The guy on the other side of the desk was the real deal. But himself? He was just a synth in detective’s clothes.
There was nothing he could say.
“Alright then. Guess I’ll go first,” Valentine said. “Headed back to Chicago not long after that brain scan thing. That’s where you came from, ain’t it?”
Nick couldn’t so much as nod in response. He couldn’t even breathe. Nothing felt real.
“Yeah, that’s where you came from,” Valentine continued. “Cooked up in a lab by those kooks at the Institute, plain as day. Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, Chicago. That’s where I was when the bombs fell and the world ended and took ninety nine percent of the people with it. Guess we deserved it. Some of us did, at any rate. And if you’re wondering if anyone you know made it through, you’ll be happy to learn that Uncle Joe’s got a nice little setup growing carrots, of all things. Ghoulified just like me, the poor son of a bitch.”
“Who? I don’t—”
“Christ, you forgot about him? You got the nerve to call yourself by my name and you can’t so much as remember your own family?”
Valentine shook his head.
“Guess it doesn’t matter. If he keeps going with those chems the way he has, he’s gonna fry his brain and be gone before too long. But I digress. I hung around what was left of Chicago for a while after the war, but things got pretty wild pretty quick. Lotta folks got real ugly, and I don’t mean this kind of ugly.”
He gestured to his face, then took another drag.
“Spent some time up farther north. Got away from it all until things cooled off. Then the other day it hit me: that rat-bastard Eddie Winter is probably still around. Since I’ve got nothing better going on than helping Uncle Joe and hunting raiders, I figured I’d take a vacation and put a bullet in Winter’s head. You can imagine my surprise to find that someone else had beaten me to the punch. And you can imagine my even bigger surprise to find out that fella was me.”
He gave Nick a look heavy with expectation, even challenge. Before he could speak, or try to, Sole stepped through the front door.
“I’ll meet you there, let me just grab some caps. First drink’s on me,” she called behind her. She turned to the two men, an exhausted smile on her face.
“Well, I’ve learned my lesson,” she said. “Never make a bet with Ellie, because you’ll probably lose. Hey sugar.”
She crossed the room and kissed Nick’s cheek.
“And who’s this supposed to be?” Valentine asked.
Sole straightened at the question. Her voice took an indignant tone.
“I happen to be Mrs. Valentine,” she said. “Who are you?”
“Oh, Mrs. Valentine, huh?” he narrowed his eyes at Nick. “Should’ve known you’d forget about Jenny too.”
Nick could have knocked his lights out for that one. A burst of anger washed over him, setting all his mechanisms humming. He gritted his teeth. His voice returned with the venom that only a hundred years of mourning could lend.
“You watch your damn mouth,” he said. “I’ll never forget her. Never.”
His breath shuddered with rage. He struggled to keep calm. A moment passed before he realized how his fingers dug into the already time-eaten desktop.
“Nick? What’s going on? Who is he?” Sole said.
Valentine looked him up and down.
“Never, huh? Could have fooled me,” he said. “Tell me. What color were her eyes?”
“They were—” he paused. Then he remembered the rich, dark tone, like autumn leaves and hot coffee.
“They were brown,” he finished.
“Took you a minute, didn’t it? Sounds like those memories ain’t so sharp anymore.”
That did it. He threw his cigarette to the ground. He stood, rattling the desk as he did so.
“What the hell are you trying to pull? Huh?” he said. “Coming in here, for—for what? Just to hassle me? Just to remind me that this bundle of wires I call a brain can only hold so much? I’m aware of that fact, jackass. But if you think for a second that a single day goes by where I don’t think of her, you’ve got another thing coming. You think I don’t know—?”
Sole put a hand on his arm.
“Calm down sugar, calm down,” she said.
He jerked away from her. He pointed a trembling finger at Valentine.
“You think I don’t know,” he paused to catch his breath, “that I’m not you?”
Silence filled the room. Sole put a hand to her mouth, her expression unreadable. Valentine spoke.
“Well. At least you know.”
“Get out.”
“Now hang on—”
“I said get out,” Nick shouted.
Valentine remained where he was. Nick’s whole body shook with rage. A hundred years of owing his life to a guy he thought was dead—a hundred years of remembering all the good, the bad, the hopes and dreams, and above all else, the kind heart that he credited for his own moral compass—only to find out that everything he thought he was would inevitably lead to a bitter ghoul with a rotten attitude.
“Like I said. I didn’t come here to make trouble,” Valentine said. “I want to talk.”
“You got a funny way of showing it.”
Sole held Nick by the shoulders.
“Please tell me what’s happening,” she said, her voice thin.
“Where are my manners,” Valentine said.
He stood and offered his hand to Sole. She looked from him to Nick, then back again. After a moment, she took it.
“The name’s Nick Valentine,” he said.
The color drained from her face.
“Oh my god,” she muttered. She turned to Nick.
“Is he—?” her words trailed away.
Again, Nick couldn’t speak. Anger choked his voice. He nodded.
“Alright,” she said. “Let’s just all calm down. I should still have some hubflowers—I can fix us some tea and we can talk it over nice and friendly-like. That sounds good, right?”
She took Nick’s good hand in both of hers, holding it tight to stop the shaking. The sudden warmth almost made him forget. Without thinking, he pressed a quick kiss to her knuckles.
Valentine’s expression softened. A struggle crossed his features. Something else took the place of the haughty challenge in his eyes. He looked down and shook his head.
“Don’t trouble yourself for me, ma’am,” he said, his voice quiet. “It’d be a waste of your hospitality.”
He took off his hat and ran his hand over his scalp.
Sole caught her breath. Valentine looked to her.
“Hmm?”
“It’s nothing, I’m just—I’m seeing double. He does that all the time when he’s worried, or nervous, or…” she said. “You really are…”
“Can’t say it matters much who I am,” he said. “Manners maketh man, so the saying goes, and my manners have been less than pristine today. This world is getting to me, I think. I apologize.”
Nick could only stare. He wondered if the sudden change was just one more ploy—one more jab—to do what, he couldn’t say.
“Let’s start again, then,” she said, then shook his hand. “I’m Sole. How do you do.”
“I’m doing alright, considering,” he said.
“I’d introduce you two,” she said, “but I suppose there’s no need, is there?”
She gave a little smile.
“I wouldn’t say that,” Valentine caught Nick’s eye. “I can tell already that we’re both a lot different from the guy who went in for that brain scan all those years ago. A fresh start might be just the thing we need.”
Nick recognized that look—it was a truce. His systems still hummed with agitation, but he couldn’t brush off the fact that his old self, his very origin, wanted to tell him something. He would never get this chance again.
He took a deep breath.
“You want to talk?” Nick said. “Alright. Let’s talk.”
He offered a handshake. He almost shuddered at the contact; he imagined it to be how it feels when someone walks across your grave.
“The name’s Nick Valentine. Nice to meet you,” Valentine said.
“Nice to meet you too, Nick Valentine. I’m,” Nick hesitated, “I’m, uh, also Nick Valentine.”
A new look came into the ghoul’s dark eyes. Nick recognized that one too; he felt the same expression overtaking his own features, narrowing his eyes, tugging at the corner of his mouth. The whole situation was ludicrous when he thought about it; two futures of the same man, bickering like street cats over nothing. What point was there to fighting? Valentine seemed to have the same idea.
The tension broke with all the suddenness of a gunshot.
Laughter filled the office.
“You synthetic son of a bitch, look at you!” Valentine laughed and slapped his arm. “You look like you’ve really been through the wringer. What have you been up to?”
“Not much of a sight yourself, meathead. Just trying to keep it together. You?”
“Surviving. Trying to live, while I’m at it.”
“That’s about all a guy can do, isn’t it?”
“You’re telling me. Sorry for being an ass earlier. All this—it’s a little hard to take in, know what I’m saying?”
“Trust me, I can relate. My first post-Institute memory was waking up in a landfill. Took me quite a while to get my bearings after that.”
“Sounds rough.”
“You don’t know the half of it. Anyway, why don’t we all sit down? We can take it easy and catch up a bit.”
“Are you sure I can’t get you something to drink?” Sole offered. “Water, or something stronger, maybe?”
“Something stronger would suit me just fine,” Valentine said.
Sole found Ellie’s bottle of whiskey while Nick got two glasses down from the shelf. When they had all taken their seats and Nick had poured the other two a drink, he sat back and lit himself another cigarette.
“I can’t believe you drink that swill,” Nick said. “If I’m remembering this right, you were more of a martini guy.”
“Yeah, well. This stuff may taste like battery acid, but you get used to it real quick when the freshwater is crawling with mirelurks.”
“Fair enough.”
“So I have to know. How did you score a cushy spot like this?”
“Long story short? I rescued the mayor’s daughter from some shady company. He made sure I had a place after that.”
“Yeah? How long ago was that?”
“Beats me,” Nick laughed.
Valentine swirled the drink in his glass.
“I have to say, it was shocking enough to find out that there’s another me running around,” he said. “But another me with a successful business and a nice place in the city and a wife? For Pete’s sake. You’re doing better than me, Nicky.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.”
“No, you are. I ain’t even got a gal.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Sole said. “I mean, if you’re half as charming as this one, there’s gotta be plenty of folks trying to catch your eye.”
“Well…” he scratched his chin. “There is a gal. Beatrice. Works for Uncle Joe. But I don’t think she likes me like that.”
“Tell me,” Sole said, “are you two on a first name basis?”
“Sure. I call her Betty and she calls me Val.”
“Does she ever call you Mr. Valentine for no reason?”
“Sometimes.”
“And does she do this with her shoulders?”
Sole demonstrated with a subtle, uneven shrug.
“Yeah, just like that! How did you know?”
Sole rolled her eyes.
“Goodness, you two are clueless when a girl is flirting with you.”
He looked away and sipped his drink. An uncomfortable silence grew.
“Now don’t tell me that you don’t flirt,” Sole said. “This one practically flirts in his sleep. Or, he would if he could sleep.”
“No, it’s not that,” he said.
He set down his drink. Nick could guess by the look on his face what he would say next. He thought of changing the subject, but knew himself well enough to be sure that Valentine wouldn’t bring it up if he didn’t want to talk about it.
“I know I gave you a hard time about forgetting Jenny earlier,” Valentine said. “But the truth is I’m losing her too. I won’t ever forget her completely, but I am losing more and more every day. And I—I don’t want her to just be a name in my head.”
He closed his eyes and pressed his lips into a thin line.
Nick pulled his own chair to the other side of the desk, sat down next to him, and put a hand to his shoulder.
“Yeah,” he said. “I know how that is.”
“I’m glad you remembered the color of her eyes,” Valentine said, his voice close to the breaking point. “Because I couldn’t.”
He let out a breath that was part laugh, part something else. He pressed a hand to his eyes. Sole moved her chair closer and offered him a handkerchief.
“I wish there was more I could do for you,” she said.
He waved away the offer and took a deep breath.
“I’m fine, I’m fine. Don’t fuss,” he said. “You all are too kind to a dried-up, foul-tempered old guy like me.”
“It’s no trouble at all,” she said. “I know we haven’t met before, but I don’t think it would be a stretch to say you’re family.”
“Heh. I see why you like her,” he said to Nick. “She’s real nice.”
Nick shrugged.
“I think I might keep her around,” he smirked. “But you said there was something specific you wanted to talk about?”
“No, not really. I don’t know why I came here. I wanted answers, but I couldn't begin to ask the question.”
He finished the last of his drink.
“Whatever you hoped to learn, I’m glad to have met you,” Sole said, taking Nick’s hand. “I never doubted that a fella this sweet must have equally sweet roots.”
Valentine gave a sad smile, but his eyes betrayed a spark of hope.
“That’s it, I think. That’s what I wanted to see for myself,” he said.
“What is?” Nick asked.
“If all that talk was true. Thing is,” he took a drag, savoring it a while before letting it go, “everyone I met who knew you or knew of you—none of them had a bad thing to say. Not a damn one of them. It was all ‘he busted me out of a raider camp last week,’ or ‘oh, he tracked down the schmuck who stole all my sister’s caps.’ He helped an old lady across the street. He rescued my cat from a tree. He delivered my firstborn child. And on and on.”
“What are you getting at?”
“Hell if I know,” he put out his cigarette. “But if I had to pick someone to carry on my name… well. I’m just glad it wasn’t a serial killer or something,” he stood and took his coat. “Anyway. I didn’t come here to bother you folks all night. I just wanted to see what kind of a man you were.”
“So what’s the verdict?”
“I’d tell you, but,” Valentine straightened his collar. “We’ve never much cared for what other people think, have we?”
He started for the door.
“Wait,” Sole stood from her chair.
She approached him, careful but sure. He didn’t stop her. She put a hand on his shoulder, stood on her toes, and placed a single kiss on his cheek. He didn’t resist. Nick could tell that a hundred things were going on between her ears. Then she threw her arms around him and brought her lips to his ear.
“Thank you for keeping him alive,” she said.
He let out a quiet laugh.
“Happy to help,” he said.
“Don’t be a stranger. Come visit anytime.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I’ve gotta hit the road. I’m meeting a caravan at Bunker Hill in the morning.” He caught Nick’s eye.
“You take care, Nick,” he said.
With that, he shook Nick’s hand, buttoned his jacket, and walked out the door.
And the agency was quiet again.