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The sun had just set, but the world hadn’t changed. Sole had watched it sink below the horizon. Somehow, the orange gradient that lingered in the sky was still as beautiful as it had been a few days before. The breeze still felt cool and soothing as it brushed through her hair. The stars peeking through the growing darkness still made her stare in wonder.
The world hadn’t changed; there was just one less person in it.
It had happened so fast.
It happened because of her.
Sole hugged her knees to her chest. She still felt sick every time she thought about it. It had been her idea for DiMA to turn himself in. He had gone willingly; he saw the logic of it. He felt the guilt of his crime. He wanted to make things right; to bring peace. Sole was so sure that the people of Far Harbor would pardon him, or at most demand reparations. But when Captain Avery pronounced the sentence, the world seemed to fall away. Sole had tried to argue in his favor.
“What about all the good he’s done?” she said. “What about all the lives he saved? I know there’s no excuse for his actions, but think about all the people who would suffer without him. Don’t do this. Please don’t do this.”
Avery’s lips set into a grim line.
“That’s not how these things work,” she said.
“That’s how they worked when Allen killed that Child of Atom. You can’t tell me that he’s done enough good for the people here to warrant a pardon and DiMA hasn’t.”
“What’s passed is past.”
“Then let it stay in the past,” she shouted. “Give him one more chance. He’s saved your lives a hundred times over with those fog condensers; with more time, I know he can do even more good.”
Avery tried to speak, but Sole cut her off.
“And what will happen to Acadia without him?” She said. “Will you all welcome those synths with open arms? Will you—” her voice broke.
DiMA stepped forward and took her hands in his.
“It’s alright,” he said. “I was prepared to accept this fate when I came here.”
“It isn’t fair.”
His gray eyes grew distant. She could see the regret behind his calm facade, the uncertainty—the fear.
“It is fair,” he said slowly. “I dug my own grave when I dug Avery’s.”
“What will happen to everyone…?”
He concealed his struggle with a little smile.
“Only a terrible leader would build a community that would crumble without him. Everything is in place to run without me.”
She bowed her head. Tears spilled onto their clasped hands.
“I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
“I know, I know.”
He pulled her gently into his arms.
“I’m sorry… oh god...” she muttered.
She wanted to hold him as tight as she could, but she resisted. He had too many fragile parts for that. Her hands shook with restraint.
“It’s alright. You don’t have to be gentle with me this time,” he said.
She tried to hold back her tears and put on a brave face, but her sorrow burst forth in a gasp. She threw her arms around his neck. Her eyes fell shut.
“I’ll never forgive myself,” she whispered.
“There’s nothing to forgive.” He squeezed her shoulders. “I’m glad to have known you. And I’m grateful that my brother will still have you to look after him. Thank you for that.”
He kissed her cheek. Then his warmth disappeared; she opened her eyes to find him standing before Nick. Nick’s expression was unreadable. Distant.
“I suppose this is goodbye,” DiMA said.
A moment passed before Nick spoke.
“I… I don’t think I can say it just yet,” he said.
“It will be better if you do.”
“I wish there was more time. It’s only been a few weeks.”
DiMA held him close. Nick hesitated, then returned the gesture.
“If you want to know anything about my past or yours, Faraday can help you,” DiMA said. “He has access to all of my memories.”
“He should be here for this.”
“No. I don’t want him to see. But if you could take him a message—”
“Name it.”
“Tell him—tell him how much I appreciate everything he’s done for me. I never could have built Acadia without him. And… send him my love.”
“I will.”
“Thank you.” He drew away, still clasping Nick’s arms. “Goodbye, brother.”
“...Goodbye DiMA.”
Nick’s hands lingered in the air. He let them fall to his sides.
DiMA crossed the boardwalk to stand before Captain Avery. He lowered himself to his knees. Even with the distance between them, Sole could hear how his insides rattled.
“He’s scared,” she said. “Please, Captain. Rethink this.”
Avery did not look at her. She raised her weapon.
“Wait—”
Sole started forward. She wasn’t sure what she would do, but she had to do something. Even if all she accomplished was holding his hand when it happened.
Nick held her back. She didn’t even have time to shake free before the crack of a shot echoed through the town.
Her heart stopped.
DiMA slumped back onto the planks.
And just like that, it was over.
Nick loosened his hold on her, but didn’t let go. She threw herself into his embrace, smothering her tears on his coat. He put his arms around her, but only just so, there and not there all at once. Distant.
Two days had passed. She still could not bring herself to look him in the eye. She couldn’t look anyone in the eye. She had stopped eating, could barely sleep. Most of her time was spent on the observatory roof, leaning against the cool metal dome, lost in grief.
It was almost worse than watching her son get taken. She had been powerless then, and that was some comfort; this time, she had been the direct cause. It was a crime she could never atone for.
Footsteps shook her from her thoughts. She didn’t look up. Nick lowered himself onto the wooden slats beside her. Even from the corner of her eye, she could tell he was looking more disheveled than usual; his coat and hat was missing, his suspenders left to drape. The sight made her vision blur with fresh tears.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered.
He let out a breath, but said nothing. Silence settled over them. The last light of evening slipped away.
“Is this where you’ve been hiding?” he said.
Sole nodded.
“I can’t stand myself. I’m sick. I’m so sick.” she hid her face. “Worse than that, I’m naive.”
“Maybe you are.”
Another silence grew. Sole wanted to pull her hair out. She hated it. She hated sitting in shadow next to the man she loved, knowing that she had wronged him in a way she could never repair.
“For fuck’s sake, just—just get mad at me already,” she said, her voice fraying. “Cuss me out. Tell me you never want to see me again.”
“What? Why would I—?”
“Because I killed him,” she looked to him, struggling to keep herself from screaming. “I killed your brother.”
He didn’t meet her gaze. Her willpower dissolved. Sobs shook her frame. She wanted him to gather her into his arms, to hold her so tight that she couldn’t breathe. Yet he remained where he was.
“What happened… It was justice,” he said. He ran a hand over his scalp. “Though it doesn’t much feel like it.”
“You know the world is screwed when justice looks like that.”
She pressed a handkerchief to her eyes.
“I haven’t even had a chance to apologize to Faraday,” she continued. “He started cursing me the moment he saw me. And I don’t blame him. I deserve it, for what I’ve done. I can still hear how he screamed as the others dragged him away from me.”
“You didn’t pull the trigger.”
“But I convinced him to do it. I should have known that they wouldn’t show him any mercy—god, I’m so stupid, I’m so stupid, I should have known.”
“It was a long walk down to Far Harbor. He could have turned back at any time. But he faced the end with dignity, and I think that’s the most any of us can hope for.”
Sole choked back another sob.
“I was so excited when we first found this place,” she said. “I just wanted to help. Now no one will even look at me.”
“Is that why you’ve been hiding?”
She nodded.
“And if all that wasn’t bad enough, here I am making this tragedy about me,” she said. “I’m sorry. You must be going through hell right now.”
He sighed.
“I don’t know what I’m going through. But the thing is… The thing is, I’ve really needed you these last few days. But you keep running from everyone.” He met her eyes. “Even me.”
His look was calm, but far from unaffected. A storm of confusion and grief churned behind his subtle expression. The pain made itself clear in every line of his face. Tears streamed down her cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” she failed to keep her voice steady. “I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t want your apologies. I just want you to be here.”
She ached to hold him close. To banish his misery with kisses or words or whatever it would take. To do anything that would bring him some degree of comfort. Yet she could not bring herself to do it. She could not believe that he would want to be that near her after what happened.
She reached out and laid her hand on his. His fingers twitched; he laced them through hers. It was enough. Even that display of warmth, even something so simple nearly sent her over the edge again. She gathered her shattered nerves and took a deep, shuddering breath.
“Tell me what I can do,” she said.
“I don’t know. I don’t even know what I can do,” he said. “In the old days, I could stop the clocks and cover the mirrors and dress in mourning. There were rituals. Even if they didn’t fix a damn thing, they could at least make me feel like I had some ounce of control. I couldn’t bring that person back, but I could wash my face and comb my hair and keep on living.”
He untwined his hand from hers and ran his fingers through her hair.
“How did you do it?” he said.
“Do what?”
“Get by. After losing Nate.”
“I didn’t. I just ignored the grief for months and then had a complete breakdown. Remember? You were there.”
“Hmm. I guess that wasn’t the best way to go about it.”
“No, definitely not.”
“I’ll have to figure out something different, then.”
“I’ll help you in any way I can. I owe you that much.”
The glow of his eyes flicked down, unfocused.
“I feel pathetic for asking.”
“I don’t care how silly it is. I’ll do it.”
“Alright. Just—” he hesitated. “Just hold me for a minute.”
She could not stop herself from bursting into another round of tears. She gathered him close, laying his head on her chest. Her whole frame still shook.
“Sorry,” she said. “I’ll try to stop crying so much.”
“It’s alright,” he murmured. “I can’t do that at all. It would probably be easier to deal with all this if I could.”
“Oh sugar…”
She ran her hand over his back. He wrapped his arms tighter around her.
“I guess what I’m saying is that… It helps.”
“Okay.”
She kissed the top of his head.
“It still seems so sudden,” he said. “Not long ago, I thought I was the only synth of my kind. Next think I know, I have a brother. And now,” he let out a breath. “Now I’m the only one again. Being unique feels pretty lonesome.”
She brushed her fingers over his skin, running her thumb along his jaw.
“I thought of something the other day,” she said. “It might make you feel a little better.”
“What is it?”
“You know how you told me once that without Old Nick’s memories, you’d just be an empty shell? That he’s the source of your moral compass?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, DiMA never had someone else’s memories to draw from. But he turned out to be a good person. A little morally gray at times, a bit overzealous, not to mention downright scary on occasion, but he had a good heart. He had ideals. And he developed that on his own.”
“He has done a lot of good. I’ll always respect him for that.”
“What I’m getting at is that I think even without Old Nick, you would still be a good person too. Even if some disastrous glitch happened and the slate were wiped clean and you had to start over from scratch, you would still be sweet and kind and have everyone’s best interests at heart. You would still be the man I love.”
His shoulders tensed, then relaxed. He nestled his head deeper into the crook of her neck.
“Figures as soon as I say that I can’t cry, you try your damndest to make a liar out of me.”
“Sorry.”
“That’s the last apology you give me today. Deal?”
She chanced a laugh.
“Deal.”
He slid out of her embrace and stretched out on the boards, bringing his head to rest on her lap. Though he folded his hands across his chest, she could just distinguish how the fingers of his good hand traced across the metal of his other—across the smooth, clean parts that DiMA had repaired. She placed her hand over both.
“The better days of life were ours,” she murmured. “The worse can be but mine. The sun that cheers, the storm that lowers, shall never more be thine.”
He let his eyes fall closed.
“The silence of that dreamless sleep I envy now too much to weep,” he said quietly.
She pressed his hand and watched as the moon rose over a world that had not changed.