Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

As far as he could tell, Nick Valentine was built with his memories of before the war. From the very minute he crawled out of that garbage pile, scrabbling for context and meaning in his existence, he could remember what the world used to look like. Back when skyscrapers scraped skys instead of knees, and when roads had cars at rush hour instead of Raiders and Super Mutants. He remembered when there was a system of laws governing everyone, not just in the Commonwealth but across America - across the world even, in theory. He remembered a time when even at the world’s worst, you could trust your neighbor not to stab you over a sack of tatos or the watch in your back pocket. 

The world was better back then, for sure, but it wasn’t the paradise people these days made it out to be.

“Synth!”

“Freak!!”

“Break its legs!!”

“Everyone, please, calm down,” Danny Sulivan pleaded with the mob gathered around him and Nick. “Security is handling the situation - I’m sorry Mr. Valentine, please just come with us.” 

“It’s not like I’ve got much of a choice,” Nick said, shrugging his shoulders as best he could with his hands cuffed behind his back. 

Danny placed a hand on Nick’s shoulder and guided him through the streets towards the jail. Handcuffed as he was, he wasn’t in any position to resist, not that it would make a difference. What the mob around them lacked in pitchforks and torches they made up for in vitriol and handguns. He knew exactly what they would do to him if he showed even the slightest hint of resistance. 

Nick was built with memories of before the bombs fell, but those memories stretched back to the war before that, and the one before that. He never fought himself - or at least, the man whose memories he had didn’t - but he remembered the newscasts on television, bringing the horrors and devastation of war right into the American home. The emaciated children left orphaned, the rivers dammed with bodies choking the life from villages - and what did the people do about it? Did it change a single damn mind? No, because everyone was so goddamn terrified of the Chinese. The “other”

The Nick in Nick’s memories was guilty of it too. He had put it out of his mind. Sure, he didn’t agree with the wanton destruction of war, but what could he do? The war was necessary, and there were matters at home to deal with. Like Eddie Winter. The man who would go on to lead Nick in circles before killing the man’s fiance and evading the law entirely. Justice wasn’t a guaranteed truth; it was a rare and precious thing, and it took losing Jenny for that Nick to realize it. 

Because after that he started seeing injustices everywhere - the raids on innocent families in the middle of the night, the camps where Chinese children were taken from their families and never heard from again, and the glares and whispers that seemed to follow every Asian-looking person when they were out in public. When the words “Chinese” and “Communist” became synonyms, there was no longer room for tolerance. And still, even noticing all that, Nick did nothing . Sure, he didn’t contribute, tried to be nice to everyone regardless of appearance, but he never corrected anyone when they said something racist, never tried to speak up when he saw someone being treated unfairly. Because it wasn’t his fight; he wasn’t “other” like them. 

Suppose this serves him right then.

As the guards led Nick past the marketplace he briefly caught the eye of Arturo. The man looked tired, unhappy, but he couldn’t hold Nick’s gaze. He didn’t say a word as the detective who faithfully served the people of Diamond City since most of them were toddlers was taken away in handcuffs by a mob of angry citizens and guardsmen. Nick couldn’t blame him, but it did sting.

“There has been big mistake!” Vadim shouted over the crowd. “Valentine is good guy! He would never sell out city to Institute!!”

“Vadim, get back inside,” Yefim hissed, yanking his brother by the arm. “You are making a scene.”

“Bah, these people can go to hell! Valentine is innocent!”

Nick could almost smile. Those two won’t ever change, will they? Vadim was a good guy, if maybe a bit irresponsible and with an off-color sense of humor, but Yefim had always been the smarter of the two of them, he knew when to keep his head down. The last thing The Dugout Inn needs is to be accused of being a front for the Institute. 

Honestly, Nick was relieved he hadn’t seen Piper on his little walk of shame. Poor girl was going to feel something awful when she found out about this. Her article had been the spark in the powder keg that started these riots. She would probably throw hands with Danny and get herself arrested right alongside Nick. Just before ducking into the city jail, his eyes met those of a young girl in a pink coat - Nat. It broke his heart to see the normally spunky, sarcastic young girl with eyes so wide he could see the whites all around her irises. Nick tried to give her a reassuring smile, but she turned around and bolted, no doubt to get her older sister. Nick sighed. Best that Piper found out from Nat rather than some riled up citizen banging on her door. 

The escort of guards shoved Nick along the narrow hall towards the detention center. Nick had been here on several occasions; plenty of his cases had witnesses behind bars who he needed a word with. Most of the guards on duty knew him well. They were people Nick would at least call acquaintances, if not colleagues. He wasn’t an official part of Diamond City’s law enforcement, but his job had him working alongside many of these people for years. There were very few sympathetic faces in the crowd. 

“Detective Valentine!” The voice was as easy on the ears as asphalt on an elbow. Mayor McDonough stood up from the jail bench. He looked about as awful as Nick had ever seen him - unwashed, unkept, without his usual hat, his jacket half-buttoned, and his tie loosely strung around his neck. As he walked forward to grip the bars of his cell the circles of sleepless bruises became apparent under his eyes. These past few days had been less kind to him than they had to Nick. “Have th-these hooligans come after you with their- their baseless accusations too ?!”

“Cram it, Synth.” McDonough jumped back as a guard smacked his baton against the bar. “Ain’t no one wants t’ hear it from you.” 

“I keep telling you, I am not a Synth!” McDonoguh pleaded, but no one listened. It seemed they’ve had their fill of his claims to innocence since the coup. 

Nick followed as he was led to the jail door, watching as a man, whose family he had once helped find a priceless heirloom, opened the door. He stepped inside without complaint, keeping his head high as he faced the guards.

“I’m so sorry Nick,” Danny said again, shutting the cell door behind him with a resounding click . “If you’d turn back around I’ll get those handcuffs off you.”

Nick obliged, pressing his wrists through the bars so the guard could unlock them. “Ya know,” Nick started, “there used to be a tradition of law enforcement telling their detainees what they’ve been accused of before throwin’ them in the slammer.” 

“I’m sorry Nick,” Danny repeated himself. Nick was already pretty tired of hearing those words. “Things have escalated real quick. People are out for blood right now - so to speak - you might actually be safer in here than you would be out there.” 

“I doubt that,” Nick muttered as he pulled his hands back in front of him and rubbed his wrists. “So what are the charges?” He asked, raising an eyebrow at the young guard.

“W-well, it’s nothing so formal,” Danny said. The way he said it made Nick believe the kid actually thought that was a good thing. “It’s just… with all the accusations of Institute presence in Diamond City, people were getting a bit… uncomfortable, with a synth openly walking around.”

“If you wanted me to leave, all you had to do was ask,” Nick retorted. “I’m sure there’s something you and a couple dozen armed guards could say that would convince me to skip town and not look back.” 

“I’m sorry,” Danny said, and damn if he didn’t sound like he really meant it. “If there was anything I could do to change this-”

“You could let me out, for start!” McDonough chose that moment to speak up, bringing attention back to himself. “You people have no right to keep me here. There is absolutely no evidence - none - that I’m anything other than human. If anything, it’s that loud reporter girl who’s the synth! Diamond City has been thrown into complete chaos thanks to her and that damned paper of hers!”

“Hey!” The guard holding the baton snapped. “One more word outta you and Imma come in there and shut your mouth for you, got it!?” 

McDonough closed his mouth, but he wasn’t happy about it. Nick turned back to Danny.

“Danny, you know this isn’t right,” Nick said, keeping his tone soft. “I may not like the guy, but Mayor McDonough hasn’t done anything wrong that we can prove. Neither have I. And if you think it will stop with just me and him you’re wrong. When people think they can't trust each other, they won’t trust anyone. This whole town will go to hell in a handbasket before you can say ‘I’m not a synth’.”

“I know,” Danny said, fingers running through his hair. “I know, I know, Just - Look, just wait it out for a few days. People will calm down. Once we figure out what we’re going to do about the ‘mayor situation’, you can go home. We’ll smooth this out.” 

“Leave it alone, Sullivan,” An older guard says behind him. “You did your job, now get back out there and make sure the people go home. We don’t want any commotion out there.”

“Yessir,” Danny said, shooting Valentine one last apologetic glance before sprinting out the door. The guard watched him go, glaring at his back until the door shut, then he turned to Nick. 

“Listen here,” He said. “I don’t care if you’re guilty or innocent; you’re in my prison right now. You’re gonna do what you’re told, and be real nice to everyone on the other side of these bars, you understand me?” 

“Crystal,” Nick said. “Believe me, I’m not lookin’ for any more trouble.”

“Good.” The self-appointed warden grunted, turning his back to the prisoners. Once as he was gone, the rest of the guards seemed to go back to their routine. Less than a minute later there were only two guards left in the room, and both were too engaged in a game of cards to pay attention to Nick and his new cellmate. Well, at least the coup hadn’t made the Diamond City Patrol any less competent than normal.

“I cannot believe the audacity of these people,” McDonough complained. “I did everything they asked, I served as their mayor for years, and yet here we are!”

Nick didn’t reply, but he acknowledged the man with a short grunt as he took a seat on the ground by the cell wall. Even the small response was probably a mistake, because McDonough continued. 

“Of all the underhanded, cheap, undemocratic things!” He stood up from the bench and began to pace. “They elected me! I was chosen to represent these people and this is how they repay me? By locking me in a cell and calling me a traitor? By rioting through the streets and shutting in the entire city! I have served the people of Diamond City for more than a decade, I’ve improved the lives of countless citizens, passed legislation to keep every human being safe-”

Nick looked over his shoulder at the guards behind him. “He been like this for long?” Nick called out. One of the guards laughed. 

“Yeah, non-stop since we brought him here,” The man said. “Sorry Valentine, think he’s just happy he’s got a new ear to preach to.”

“And you!” McDonough pointed at Nick. “You’ve been a valued member of the community as well, despite your… inhumanity.” Nick had to fight hard not to roll his eyes. “And yet here you are! These people are going to burn down the city before they realize what they’re doing.”

Valentine decided to act against his better interest and respond. “Give people a common enemy and they’re bound to come together and wipe it out, along with half their own damn population.”

“But there is no enemy!” McDonough shouted. “There are no synths in Diamond City - er, well, aside from you.”

Nick leaned his head back against the bars. He wished he’d had time to grab a lighter and a pack of cigarettes before the guards stormed his office; he had a feeling the cravings were only going to get worse from here. Nick cracked open an eye to look at McDonough. The man was striding across the cell back and forth in expectant indignation. Nick sighed. 

“Ya know, it’s a wonder where the citizens of Diamond City got the idea that removing a group of people from the city was the best way to solve their problems.”

Silence fell between them. McDonough stopped his pacing and looked at Nick, as if noticing for the first time who was in here with him. Nick didn’t even bother looking back, he kept his eyes firmly on the wall, his arm resting casually on his knee. He hoped the guards would let him borrow a lighter; he still had a few loose cigarettes in his coat pocket, and hopefully they wouldn’t mind lending him a few more. If he was going to spend more than a few hours in this place, he was definitely going to need them. 

McDonough walked back to the bench and plopped down with all the grace of a brahman birthing a calf. “Well, either way,” He huffed. “Suppose we’re stuck here until the people come to their senses.”

“Don’t hold your breath,” Nick said, closing his eyes. “In my experience, people don’t have much sense to come back to anyways.”

Chapter Text

“Nick!! Oh thank god you’re okay.”

Nick wasn’t shocked at all when his first visitor came in the form of a frazzled Piper just a few hours after his arrest. He hadn’t moved from the spot he had made himself comfortable in after the cell door was closed. Most of the time between then and now had been spent thinking on how everything had gone so wrong so fast and tuning out McDonough’s ramblings. He was happy for the distraction. 

“Piper,” Nick said with a smile. “How’s the paper sales going?” She flinched, and Nick instantly regretted it. He hadn’t meant for it to come out like an accusation - he didn’t blame her for the situation one bit. The article she had written wasn’t what started Diamond City’s trend of doubting everyone that wasn’t human, even if it had been a bit more inflammatory than would have been responsible. His mouth turned down and he changed the subject. “I saw Nat on the way in here. She okay?”

“Yeah,” Piper said, manicured nails pulling at the roots of her hair. “Just a little spooked seeing you carted off in cuffs.”

Nick chuckled. “It was quite the surprise to me as well; didn’t even establish a safe word before chainin’ me up.”

“Nick!” Piper snorted, seeming conflicted about the whole situation. “Don’t make me laugh, this is serious.”

“Yeah, I know,” Nick replied. “Just hate seein’ you so worked up is all.”

“God, this is all my fault isn’t it?” She crouched down to be at eye-level with Nick. “The riots, the arrests…”

“Of course it is!” McDonough piped up from behind Nick, earning himself a glare from both Piper and Nick. If he noticed, he didn’t care. “Your rabble-rousing has really done it this time, Piper! If Diamond City falls it will all be on your head!!”

“Put a sock in it, ‘mayor’,” Piper said, emphasizing air quotes around the word ‘mayor’. “I’m not here to talk to you.”

“Of course not,” He spit back. “Did it ever occur to you to try and interview me and hear my side of the story?” 

Piper sputtered, clearly offended to her deepest core. “Try and interview you!?” She shouted. “I’ve been trying to get a statement from you for years!! That bimbo secretary of yours has my name on a black list!”

“Piper,” Nick said warningly. He didn’t want to escalate things any further, nor did he want to give McDonough the attention he craved. “Just ignore him for right now - what is it you came here to say?” 

Piper looked back to Nick, cheeks still flushed with rage, and for a minute Nick thought his hard-boiled reporter was going to break down in tears. “Nick… It’s getting really bad out there.” 

Nick couldn’t help but chuckle before he thought better of it. “I’ve noticed…” He rapped a knuckle against the bars.

“It’s not just that,” Piper said. “They’ve shut down the entire city. It’s not just the wall anymore, Nick, the guards aren’t letting people out of their houses.” Nick had suspected that. Ever since the riots began the guards announced new rules at the beginning of each day. First it was that no one was allowed into the city, the next day no one was allowed to leave - the next logical step was to forbid people from coming out onto the streets to protest whatever they felt.

“How did you get down here then?” Nick asked, already knowing the answer.

“Danny let me in,” She said with a wry smile. “I called in a favor or two.” 

“Honestly, I’ll never know what you’ve done for that kid to have earned so many favors,” Nick chuckled.

“Not unless you buy me a drink first,” Piper retorted. 

It was a relief to talk to Piper. It felt almost like any ol’ day in the office, even if it wouldn’t last long. The past several hours Nick’s mind had had nothing to focus on except running through the various outcomes of this scenario - and not many of them were positive. 

“Where’s Ellie?” Piper asked. 

“Out of town,” Nick said. “Told her it was about time she took a vacation back to Goodneighbor just before the shut down. Wouldn’t believe the fight she put up not to go.” 

Piper frowned. “Why didn’t you go with her?” She asked. “You’re a detective; you had to see the writing on the wall here?”

“And how would that have looked?” Nick said with a shrug. “Nick the Synth skips town after alleged Institute-aligned mayor is arrested.”

“That isn’t true!” McDonough chimed in out of obligation, and was ignored. 

“The entire Commonwealth would think that I’m in bed with the Institute,” Nick continued. “Not a damn soul would believe I wasn’t guilty of being a spy. Besides, Diamond City is my home, whether they like me here or not.”

Piper made a sound somewhere between a whine and a groan; Nick didn’t think she even noticed it. “Nick, I’m so, so sorry,” She said, putting her hands on the bars. 

“I know kid,” Nick said. His heart broke for her several times over. “I’m sorry too.” 

The silence lingered between them for several long minutes. Nick could hear every breath that Piper took, his mechanical mind reflexively counting them. There was no guarantee he would see her again. Things didn’t look good for the city, and Danny could only pull so many strings before he snapped. From what he could tell Piper was being lauded as a hero, the great exposer of evil synth Mayor McDonough. That was good, or at least, beneficial. If she could just keep up that identity for as long as it took for the city to come to grips with itself then she and her little sister would be safe. Nick was down in the mud, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to take Piper down with him. 

“Listen, Piper,” Nick said gently. “I don’t want you feeling guilty about any of this, you hear me?”

“I do!!” McDonough spoke again, regardless of being ignored. 

“You just focus on keeping you and your sister safe right now. That’s all that’s important,” Nick placed his good hand on Piper’s knuckles. “You’ve been a good friend to me, okay? And you’re an excellent reporter.”

“Nick…” Piper’s voice wobbled, but his girl was strong enough to swallower her tears while talking. “Don’t talk to me like that. Don’t act like you’re not gonna get out of here.” Piper took a breath and her voice was steeled. “Because you’re going to get out of here. I’m going to tell everyone you’re innocent.”

“Piper…”

“Don’t ‘Piper’ me!” Piper snapped. “I’m not a kid anymore, I’m an adult!” Barely . Nick thought to himself of the prepubescent girl who had sat in his office for hours grilling him for a history report. How many years ago had that been? Less than ten, for sure. “Don’t tell me I can’t, because I will. I’m going to tell everyone the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.”

Nick smiled. Piper was one unique cookie; determined to a fault to see that everyone gets a fair shake. He was lucky to have a friend like her. “Well, when you put it like that, I find it hard to believe anything else.” He said. “What can I say, you really do have a gift with words.”

Piper tried her best to hug him through the bars - it came off awkward and incomplete, but the gesture wasn’t lost on Nick. It warmed his soul - or at least, whatever subroutine counted for his soul these days. “I’m going to get you out of here,” She said, and honestly, Nick really did find himself convinced for at least a moment. 

A guard came up behind her and tapped her shoulder, motioning to the door. She reassured him one more time that there was no way she was going to let Diamond City turn against him. He made her promise one more time to take care of herself and Nat, and then she was gone.

“I don’t see how you can stand to talk to her,” McDonough said as the door shut behind Piper. “You do know she’s as much to blame for you being in here as me.”

Nick refused to dignify that with a response. 

---

John Hancock had many, many partners in his life, both romantic and sexual. There was Shannon, his first. She had been just as eager to climb on top of him as he was her. She lasted until she met Diana, and he met Ricky. The next memorable one was Jace, he’d been the first Wastelander John slept with - a trader from the Capital who came to Diamond City with his dad on business. Then there was Kim, the ghoul girl who welcomed him to Goodneighbor with a drink, a kiss, and a mugging that left him walking back to Diamond City broke and shoeless. He hated to say that their relationship hadn’t ended there. And of course there was Jenny, Quin, Amber, Ty, Sam, Ashton… Hancock wasn’t picky. Sex was as formal to him as a handshake, and relationships came and went in a flash. Monogamy was never his style, neither was doing the same thing (or the same person) for too long. 

Still, that didn’t make this latest catch of his any less special. 

“Mngh, John,” The pretty little vault dweller moaned, gripping his waste so hard it could bruise. “I didn’t expect this out of you,” He panted. “The mayor of Goodneighbor is a complete slut when it comes to a little dirty talk.”

John shuddered under the words. “What can I say?” He said, pressing his knees against Nate’s hips, keeping him straddled where he sat. “You’re just my type~” He nipped Nate’s bottom lip, coaxing a shudder out of him. 

Nate had only been in Goodneighbor a few times, but from the moment he walked through the gates Hancock had his eye on him. Ever since Finn caught a bullet to the head trying to rough Nate up, Hancock had been dead set on finding out everything he could about this vault dweller. Their kind wasn’t exactly known for being the “tough guys”, and those bulging muscles and sexy scars weren’t the type that came from a vault gym. Not to mention his overall friendly and accepting nature, which was a rarity for anyone these days. Call it a crush if you must, but Hancock wasn’t going to let someone like that out of his sights. 

Turns out, it was the right call. The man was single, tough as nails, and a nuclear powerhouse in the bedroom. He wasn’t anything like he seemed at first glance; Nate was chronically shy, awkward, and standoffish with everyone who didn’t meet his vault-dweller standards of morality, but when it came down to it he was no push over and a fantastic shot. Hancock had yet to unlock his backstory, how someone from the vaults came to be such a badass with a soft spot for ghoul cock, but he was sure it would come in time. Having a man between your legs really loosened up small talk. 

John tilted Nate’s head back, biting along his neck as he slowly descended towards his collarbone. He could feel Nate’s dick through the loose fabric of his vault suit, and Hancock wondered how he was going to get the damn thing off as fast as possible when they were interrupted by a knocking at the door. 

Nate’s head whipped around, and Hancock could tell the mood was killed. Damn stuck-up vault dwellers and their sense of decency. Hancock slid off Nate’s lap, plucking his hat off from the coffee table before shouting out, “This had better be important.” 

The door opened at the same time Nate crossed his legs, adjusting himself to seem casual rather than heated, for all the good that would do. Fahrenheit knew what John was getting up to when that door was shut. 

“I’ve got an update from Diamond City,” She said, voice deadpan. Hancock hated when she talked all business like that - especially when it interrupted his 'entertaining' guests. “And Ellie wants a word with you.”

“Who?” Hancock asked, swiping a pack of mentats from the table. He took three. 

“Nick's Secretary,” Fahrenheit said. 

“Oh yeah,” Hancock chuckled. “Good to see her back in town.” Right before the shit hit the fan in Diamond City he had seen her hanging around the Third Rail. He had meant to say hi, but then forgot. It wasn’t like they were close or anything, she moved from Goodneighbor to Diamond City around the time Handcock moved from Diamond City to Goodneighbor. Really, their only connection was through Nick, a mutual friend. “What’s the word from the Green Turd of the Commonwealth?” 

Fahrenheit rolled her eyes. “The gates are still closed, and things are going from bad to worse.” She said. “The guard has put the entire city on lock down, and they’ve arrested Nick Valentine on suspensions of collusion with the Institute.”

Nate sat up straight when he heard that. “Nick Valentine?” He said, looking at Fahrenheit. She ignored him. 

“Personally, I would suggest staying out it,” She said to Hancock. “But I have a feeling Ms. Perkins is going to want you to intervene, so might I suggest ahead of time that we don’t meddle in the business of one of the largest settlements in the Commonwealth?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hancock said, waving Fahrenheit away. Sheesh. This was going to really take the shine off a good day wasn’t it? And what was with that reaction from Nate when Fahr mentioned Valentine? Couldn’t be that the two knew each other, right? “Look, Tell Elma I’ll be right with her and send her to me in fifteen, ‘kay?” 

“Ellie,” Fahrenheit corrected. “And fine, but don’t expect her to wait.” 

The door closed and Hancock stretched, pulling himself off the comfortable couch with the beautiful man on it to do actual work. “Sorry, friend, but it looks like mayoral duties call.” 

“Valentine?” Nate said, “He’s that detective everyone keeps telling me about, isn’t he?” 

Hancock looked back at Nate with a shrug. “Probably. Don’t know many other guys doin’ his line of work these days.” 

Nate nodded. “I was hoping to go see him when Diamond City opened back up.” Hancock waited for Nate to elaborate on why he needed a private eye, but of course he didn’t. Sheesh, what did it take for this guy to open up?

“Well it looks like you might have to wait a little longer,” Hancock said. He strode across the room to where he had discarded his pants in a passionate and errotic display. So much for that now. He slid the trousers up over his boxers and worked the buckle into place. “Diamond City had a reputation for being… less than friendly with non-humans, you feel me?” 

“Non-humans?” Nate asked. 

“Yeah,” Hancock looked back at his partner. “Didn’t anyone tell you? Nick’s a synth.” Nate’s eyebrows rose. To his credit, at least Nate knew what a synth was; some vault dwellers are as good as children when it came to traveling the wasteland. “An’ not one of the ones that look human neither - he’s 100% metal and sass.”

“Really?” Nate said. “I didn’t realize the gen 2 synths had the capacity to be detectives. The ones I've seen seem less intelligent than protectrons.” 

“Nicky ain’t like them,” Hancock assured him. “He’s more man than most of the people livin’ in Diamond City, certainly more than their piece of shit mayor.” Hancock growled. He felt an old hurt rise in him and didn’t have the time for drugs, so he pushed it back down into its place. “Those racist fuckwits wouldn’t know what to do with a good man if they saw one, which is probably why they’re takin’ out whatever their paranoid minds come up with on Nick.” 

Nate seemed to be thinking on this new information when Ellie opened the door to Hancock’s office. Thankfully, his pants were fully on by then. 

“Mayor Hancock,” She said, seeming just a bit out of breath and a little bit more drunk. She took two more deep breaths before continuing. “Mayor Hancock, you have to do something!”

“Easy there, sweetheart,” John said, patting Ellie’s shoulder. “Just take a deep breath and let’s sit down by the couch and chat this out, okay?” 

Ellie shrugged off his shoulder in a huff. “They’ve got Valentine, John, you have to help him - he's your friend ” Her voice was shrill enough to break glass; Hancock blamed that on why he flinched. “You have to do something! They’ll kill him!!” 

“Babe, I’m not the mayor of Diamond City, am I?” Hancock put edge in his voice as he spoke, just to remind the tipsy secretary who she was talking to. “As far as I can tell, no one is at the moment, you feel me? It ain’t my place to ‘do something’.” 

“I’m not asking the mayor of Goodneighbor, I’m asking you!” She pleaded, grabbing at his arms. “John, you can’t let them do this. Diamond City is going to turn on itself, kill every decent person living there. Nick, Piper, Nat… even McDonough doesn’t deserve this.”

Hancock felt his shoulders rise. “Funny, because about fifteen years ago when you all voted that prick into office, I thought the same thing,” He stepped forward, and Ellie stepped back. “Tell me, sweetheart , did Deirdre deserve to be thrown out of Diamond City? Just for being a Ghoul? What about the Chester family? Or Arline Glass? Do you know any of their names? Of course you don’t, you moved in just in time to see them thrown out on their ass by McDonough and take their spot in the city.” John was spitting by the end of his rant. He took a sharp inhale and reached for a canister of jet in his pocket. “So sorry If I’m not cryin’ any tears over your little Mayor spending some time in the cooler. And as for Nick,” He took a long huff on his inhaler, holding the fumes in his lungs, waiting to feel the chems kick in. He blew the smoke out in a single elligent breath. “he knew the risk when he stuck around. He’s on his own.”

Ellie was almost in tears, lips pursed into a fine line on her face. She didn’t dare open her mouth in case she started crying. Hancock turned away. “Look, don’t get me wrong,” he said. “Nick’s a good guy - a good friend, even.” Hancock strolled over to the couch across from Nate and sat down, crossing his legs. “But there really isn’t anything I can do. Goodneighbor and Diamond City are about as opposite as they get, you feel me? I can’t just walk in there and start giving them orders, especially not when they’re riled up like this.” 

Ellie wiped at her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. “I understand,” She said, and she managed to keep her voice firm. “I just hope Nick will.” 

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Hancock said with a wave of his hand. “This is Nick we’re talkin’ about - the guy could smooth talk his way outta a deathclaw’s den. And has.” 

Ellie turned on her heel and stomped out. Hancock felt a little sorry for her, deep down - probably would feel a lot more fucked up about the situation if he wasn’t a few miles high right now. Diamond City finally turned on good ol’ Nick Valentine. He really didn’t deserve that, of all people. That was just like DC too - they finally took a step in the right direction getting rid of Mayor Dickhead, then took ten leaps back by arresting Nick. Hancock was right to leave that sinking ship when he did. 

“Think she’ll be alright?” Nate asked, looking across at Hancock. 

“Ellie’ll be fine,” Hancock said. “Girl’s native Goodneighbor - tough as nails. It’s Nick I’m worried about.”

“Yeah, me too,” Nate admitted. “I never went to Diamond City, but it sounds like a rough place to be for someone who isn’t human.” 

John nodded along, taking a second hit of Jet and reaching for another mentat. “Speaking of which, what are you in the market for a detective for? Surely someone from the vaults doesn’t have that much business going on up here on the surface.”

Nate’s face turned to stone, every intimate and exposed expression Hancock had spent the last two hours coaxing out of him hidden in an instant. Goddamnit, Ellie. 

“I mean, it’s your business or whatever,” Hancock said, trying to play it cool. “I just wanted to know if I could help things along; I do have some sway around these parts, you know?” He gave Nate a wink, hoping that his sultry tones would rekindle that spark they had going. Of course he wasn’t that lucky. 

“Yeah, it is my business. Sorry.” Nate said, standing up. Hancock was sure that Nate was going to leave right then and there, but he paused, looking between his lover and the door awkwardly. “Look, Hancock-”

John waved. “It’s cool, it’s cool,” He chuckled. “That business really killed the mood for me too. Let’s try again some other time, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Nate said with a smile. “I’d like that John.” And just to prove he was serious, Nate leaned down and gave Hancock a quick peck on the mouth. 

Yeah, Hancock has had more partners than he can accurately recall, but he could tell this one was going to be one of the memorable ones.

Chapter Text

Nick hated having a chronometer, it was one of the worst paradoxes of his existence. A machine that could feel bored and know the exact amount of time it had been bored down to the millisecond - that had to be some kind of ethics violation. Not to say that his entire existence wasn’t an insult to all pre-war sense of robot-ethics, that is. 

It had been two days since his arrest, five since McDonough’s, and a week since the town and begun their rebellion. All this started because Piper had to open her mouth. 

No, that wasn’t fair; when all this really started was when that synth when berzerk at the noodle shop all those years ago. McDonough campaigning against the ghouls had amplified a sense of fear in the humans of Diamond City, turning people against their neighbors. And the notices leaked by the guards that McDonough wanted to cover up any evidence of Institute interference in Diamond City had been the nail in the coffin. As soon as Piper’s article came out those memos were leaked to the general population and all hell broke loose. 

Nick locked up the office as soon as he heard. He practically packed Ellie's bags for her and told her to go visit her friends in Goodneighbor for the weekend - or maybe longer. “Just until things quiet down here.” He told her. There had been tears, as though Nick was kicking her out - really he wanted to make sure she was spared from anything that happened next. She knew that, didn’t she? She had to. Nick wished he had made that more clear when he told her to leave. 

Nick had spent the next few days in his office. He had case files he could review, old books to read - the only thing he couldn’t do was go outside. He could hear the chants of angry citizens demanding McDonough’s resignation - sometimes his head. Myrina pounded on his door more than once, demanding that he “show his ugly face”. If those pre-war memories were good for anything, they at least gave him some insight on where this all was going. By the time he knew that he needed to get out of town the city was on lockdown. Mayor McDonough was arrested by his own guards, his secretary nowhere to be found, and not a supporter left in sight. Nick knew then it was only a matter of time. 

It was almost a relief to be sitting in jail, rather than in his home wondering when and if his neighbors would turn on him. 

Almost. 

“-And I’m telling you, when I get back into office I’m going to have you all fired!” McDonough shouted at the guards. “A trial? For me? I’m your mayor , goddamnit! Who is even going to be sitting over this so-called ‘trial’ of yours?”

“The people!” A younger guard snapped back at him. “You know? Those guys you kept selling off to the Institute all these years?”

“The people cannot decide the fate of the Mayor!” McDonough cried. “It’s- It’s positively undemocratic!!!”

“I think we've all heard enough out of you,” Nick said, addressing his cellmate for the first time in days. It didn’t last long, because he immediately turned back around to face the guards. “When is this trial supposed to take place?” 

“About three days from now,” The commanding officer said. “The two of you will be brought out separately to face a series of questions from the people, then we’ll hold a vote to decide your fate.”

Seemed reasonable enough. Let the mob of highly emotional, volatile, synth-hating people play judge and jury - Nick could only wonder who would be executioner. 

"And what happens if they vote against us?" Nick asked. Neither guard gave him a reply, but only because the answer was obvious. 

“This is outrageous,” McDonough said. “There is no proof that I’m a synth. No one hates the Institute more than me!” 

“Save it for the trial, McDonough,” The young guard sneered. 

“I don’t suppose either of us gets an attorney for this?” Nick said, trying for a joke but knowing it fell flat when he realized no one in the room knew what a lawyer was. “Look, I know I’m not in any position to question your methods here, but this isn’t the most effective way to go about seeking justice.”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you,” The guard glared at Valentine. “Listen up guys, the synth is gonna lecture us on morals.” 

“Not morals - justice,” Nick corrected. “Big difference.”

“Of course,” The guard rolled his eyes. “Just you wait, Valentine, you’ll get what’s comin’ to you.” 

Nick took a deep breath. “You know, Clarence, I think I remember your mother coming to me about twenty years ago. Told me her crazy husband had run off with the kids in the middle of the night, was at her wits end looking for you guys. Found you and your sister locked in some pre-war cellar clinging to each other after your father overdosed. Bet you’re too young to remember, but I carried you back to Diamond City with your sister’s hand in mine that day, and even now I wouldn’t change that for any-”

Nick was cut off when the guard slammed his fist against the bars hard enough to rain concrete flakes down on them both. “Don’t you talk about my fuckin' family like you know them!” He shouted. “You’re probably the one that kidnapped my sister, aren’t you?? That was how you got her, huh? People trusted you to go pick up some kids and then bam , you swap her out for some synth duplicate?” 

The older officer puts a hand on the boy’s shoulder, but he shakes it off. He glares at Nick as doing so would turn back time and stop the nukes from touching ground. “I can’t wait to see you fucking fry.” 

There was nothing Nick could say, the kid’s mind was already made up. There was no way he could heal the hurt that turned Clarence from that toddler who’d fallen asleep sucking his thumb in Nick’s arms decades ago to the hate-filled man he saw now. He felt sorry for him, he felt sorry that there was nothing he could do to make him be a better person than this. 

The officers stepped back, and Nick leaned into the bars of the cell. He had migrated from the door to the corner of the room when the guards came the first day to give McDonough his food. They had awkwardly asked Nick if he needed anything, to which Nick replied with his request for cigarettes. Unsurprisingly, it had been turned down, and he had been in a mood ever since. Between that and the announcement of his impending trial in a kangaroo court for crimes he still wasn’t entirely clear on, Nick’s synthetic nerves were a bit frayed. 

“This is a disaster,” McDonough said, sitting down on his bench and pulling at his gray hair. “These people are insane. They’re going to convict for sure.”

“They’re scared, and people can be cruel when they’re afraid,” Nick admitted. He wasn’t sure why he was resorting to talking through his thoughts with McDonough of all people, but seeing as he was the only person left in the room, it was as good as any company got. “They think the Institute is coming for them, like those bastards got some personal investment in the lives of the average Diamond City resident.”

“That’s ridiculous,” McDonough huffed. Nick shrugged.

“Is it? It’s not like any of us know what the Institute wants. There isn’t much of a pattern in the people they replace, or where they target for attack.” Nick really wished he had a cigarette for this. “It’s that uncertainty that gets people, not knowing where the enemy is coming from or where they’re gonna strike next.”

“As if the Institute is even the enemy,” McDonough grumbled. 

That caught Nick’s attention. His head snapped around, looking over McDonough with new eyes. He had known that man since he was a child, running around town and harassing his little brother to no end. Sure, he'd gone from violent prankster to ethnocentric demagogue over the last couple of decades, but he wasn't all that different from how he'd always been. Could it be…?

“If you want any chance of getting out of this trial alive, you’re gonna want to can it on sentiments like that,” Nick warned. McDonough seemed to notice he was speaking out loud for the first time and became instantly flustered. 

“Right, right, sorry… It’s just- just what you were saying… about not knowing?” He scrambled for an explanation. “We don’t know what the Institute wants, right? So how can we know it’s all bad. M-maybe the people who disappear there are just fine. I mean, I once heard a story from a friend who-”

Nick tried his best to tune out the rest of the fallen mayor’s ramblings. He had bigger problems at hand. Whether McDonough was a synth or not was his business (though if he was working for the institute Nick would take issue with that), what Nick needed to focus on now was how to convince the people of Diamond City he wasn’t a threat. It would be a lot easier to do that if he knew exactly what they were accusing him of. Everything thrown at him in the past few days seemed like nebulous distrust rather than actions he could account for. If the issue was he was a synth, then he was guilty - no one could deny that. If it was that he had kidnapped Clarence’s sister then he was innocent, though no one could account for that except Nick himself. It really all came down to how people felt about him, and that was a grab bag of answers on the best of days. 

The outlook was grim, he had to admit, but Nick hadn’t lost hope just yet. He knew these people, lived and worked alongside them for years - he’d seen many of them go from diapers to t-shirts. There was a reason he stayed in Diamond City, despite the racism, the incompetence of law enforcement, and the poor governance (with special thanks on that one to the paddling ex-mayor to his right). It was because Nick had made his home here, he was part of the community, whether they liked him or not. Or at least, he had been. Now it seemed like the same neighbors he’d been so fond of were looking for an excuse to string him up - or whatever the synth equivalent of a hanging was. 

And if he was honest with himself, the thought was more than a little chilling. The idea that the entire city would be turned against him so quickly gave him phantom pains where his stomach would be. He’d been repressing the anxiety of his situation for over forty-eight hours now; he didn’t know how much longer he would last. 

In the end, all Nick could do was tough it out, soldier through until he had a chance to speak to the people, answer their questions, and tell them that he wasn’t a threat. He had about as much chance of winning that gambit as he had learning to fly. Would've been nice if the Institute had built him with wings, or maybe just not built him at all. 

---

Nick’s chronometer was off. 

He blinked. 

That was strange. One moment it said the time was 7:35:42 pm, the next it was 8:42:53. Nick sat up from his corner, pulling back his knees to stand up. There wasn’t anyone in the room, save for McDonough, just as he thought, but something felt off. 

“Hey,” Nick said, turning to his cellmate. McDonough started, woken from dozing on the bench. 

“Hm?” He said, rubbing an eye. “What is it?” 

“Did something just happen?” Nick asked, looking around. The room looked exactly the same as before, sure, but his systems were dead certain there was at least an hour he couldn’t account for - not to mention McDonough sitting in a completely different position than he was just a second ago. 

“What are you talking about?” McDonough asked irritably. 

“My chronometer - my clock,” He corrected when he saw the confusion on McDonough’s face. “It says it’s 8:42”

“Yes?” McDonough looked less than impressed with this fact. “I’m not certain of the time myself, but I do believe that would be about right. It feels late…” 

Nick frowned, rubbing his head. “What happened? I don’t remember anything from the last hour.” 

“Well, that’s probably because nothing of interest happened in the last hour,” McDonough huffed, dismissing the conversation. “The only thing that’s happened is you took a nap and the guards went home.”

“I don’t sleep,” Nick said, leaning against the bars. 

“Well you certainly didn’t look awake,” McDonough settled back down on the bench. “Now, would you keep it down, even if you can’t sleep I certainly would like to.”

“No no, by all means - far be it from me to keep you up with my jabbering,” Nick said. If McDonough had a sense for sarcasm, he certainly didn’t show it. The man closed his eyes and settled back down for the night. Nick, however, couldn’t quite let go of what just happened. It wasn’t like him to experience a glitch like that, not without something outside of him happening. Could it be stress? It was a pretty human thing to collapse from stress, but there wasn’t like there wasn’t any shortage of that these past few days. 

Nick sat back down and ran his internal system diagnostic - it was all he could do. When the guards came back in the morning he would ask if he could hook himself up to a terminal to do a full scan. It was about as likely as his request for cigarettes but hey, what’s the harm in asking?

Chapter Text

McDonough began prepping for his trial first thing the next day. The renewed fervor of his cellmate gave Nick a good bit of whiplash. Part of him thought the man was just going to throw in the towel after the guards announced their trial, but here McDonough was pacing back and forth delivering the same speech for the fourth time, this time emphasizing a few words different than before and schooling his expression.

“And so as you can see,” He finished, clasping his hands together and spinning towards Valentine. “I am the same McDonough you’ve always known, the same man you elected to lead you through the ghoul crisis, and I am still your mayor. Judge me as you will, but know that I will always be on the side of humanity.” He stood with his spine straightened, fist against his chest, gazing out at a crowd that didn’t yet exist. After only two seconds of holding the pose, he looked back down at Nick. “How was that?”

“About the same as the last three times you asked,” Nick said, running the fingers of his skeletal hand along his nose. “This isn’t a reelection campaign, you know. You’re not gonna be able to just waltz up on that stage and tell the people what to think of you.”

“Then what do you suggest I do?” McDonough snapped, arms crossed. “I’m not just going to sit here and wait for the guards to drag me to the guillotine.”

Nick had a headache. Well, sort of. His mental processes were at their limit, and his head was starting to feel cramped. From the minute the guards walked into the room McDonough had been grilling them on the details of the trial. It was pretty clear that even they didn’t know what was going on - the whole thing was a messy effort at replicating a judicial system put together by people whose highest level of education came from a 200-year-old Mr. Handy. Still, between the inane questions and the nonsensical answers, Nick had been able to gather just a bit of useful information. 

The city was putting together a list of questions to ask them. The accusations against them would be formally declared at the start of the trial, after which they would have some amount of time to deny or fess up to the alleged crimes. McDonough would go on first, followed by Nick, and it would take place on the podium by the western wall so everyone could watch. It wasn’t much to go off of, but Nick could start preparing for it in his own way. And unlike some people, his way didn’t include speaking out loud; whether that was a quirk of his personality or a benefit of being a synth, he would never know. 

“Look,” Nick said as soon as he realized McDonough was going for his fifth encore recital. “You’re not going to get anywhere by reciting some pretty lines you’ve conjured up in your head. People want to know they can trust you.”

“And how do you know that?” McDonough asked. 

“Believe it or not, I got more than a few memories of spending time in the courtroom,” Nick returned. When McDonough raised an eyebrow Nick explained. “It used to be a big part of bein’ a detective. People wanted you to come in and say what you found about the accused before they passed judgment.”

A flicker of realization flashed across McDonough’s face, and Nick hated that he instantly regretted letting on that he might be helpful to him. 

“Alright then,” McDonough said, sitting down on the ground in front of Nick like a child at storytime. “So what do we do?” 

Nick took a deep breath and quickly cleared his cache to make room for this conversation. 

“Well, for starters, you’re going to have to tell the truth, no matter how ugly that truth is,” Nick said. The look on McDonough’s face said he clearly didn’t like that idea. “The point of this ‘trial’ from what I gather is more about what they’re gonna do with us rather than figuring out whether we’re guilty or not. Seems like that’s already been decided.” Nick sighed. “It looks like the general consensus around town is that you’re a synth working for the Institute, and I’m somehow gathering intel on Diamond City from the inside. Now I don’t know about that first part - only you can say if that’s true or not-”

“It’s not,” McDonough interrupted to assure him. 

“Right, well, as for that last part, as far as I know, I’m not welcome in the Institute. For whatever reason, they tossed me out, and I don’t exactly hold any goodwill towards them.”

“But if they’ve already decided we’re guilty, then what’s the point of a trial?” McDonough asked. 

Unfortunately, all Nick could give him was a shrug. “To make this all seem fair? Like they’re giving us a chance to defend ourselves. If they just shot you in your office and disassembled me in the streets they would be no better than raiders; but if they give us a trial first, then it’s fair - civilized.”

“But that’s not fair! That is the definition of uncivilized!” 

“I never said it was fair, I just said it seems fair,” Nick said, already feeling his headspace clog up again. 

“So you’ve given up then?” McDonough challenged, voice rising. “You’re just going to let them take you apart like common trash?”

“No,” Nick replied, feeling in his voice the same darkness that’s hung over him ever since he was shoved into this godforsaken cell. “No, I’m gonna fight this. I’m gonna tell the people the truth, make them see that what they’re doing here is wrong. The people of Diamond City aren’t savages. They aren’t raiders or gunners or mutants - they’re kind, caring, loyal people. Once as they wake up from this misguided hysteria they’ll remember that.”

Nick felt a bit lighter after saying all that. It wasn’t until it all came out that he realized that was exactly how he felt. Things were dark, sure, but deep down he still had faith in the better nature of humanity. 

From the look on his face, McDonough was less than impressed by his speech. “I see. And this mass awakening you mentioned, will that be before or after we face the firing squad?” 

Nick actually managed to laugh at that. “Well now, that remains to be seen…”

---

The same thing happened with Nick’s internal clock again. Or rather, with Nick’s whole… Nick. 

One minute he was thinking over exactly what he was going to say to the crowd of angry, synth-hating people who held his life in their hands and the next time seemed to just blink forward. His chronometer went from four in the morning to six. He’d been out longer this time… long enough that the morning shift had arrived to bring McDonough his breakfast and let him out in cuffs to use the bathroom. No one seemed to notice - or care - that Nick had been comatose for the past two hours. Nick was already running another diagnostic when he called out to the shift leader. 

“Hey, you,” He said, pulling himself up to his feet. “Where’s Danny? Thought the kid was supposed to be on duty down here today.” Nick had been hoping to ask him about using a terminal to see what was going wrong with his OS. Considering the state of distrust surrounding Nick’s synth nature, Danny was the only person he trusted to keep Nick’s little operating errors on the down-low. 

“Sulivan isn’t coming in,” The guard said, never meeting Nick’s eyes. “He’s been restationed to entrance duty.”

Nick frowned. “I thought the gates were closed.”

“They are,” There was a challenge in the guard’s voice, one that Nick would not give him the satisfaction of taking. So they took Sully off guard duty, huh? He hoped that didn’t mean the kid was suspect for being friendly when they brought Nick in. The last thing he wanted was to drag any more people down into the muck with him.

Nick paced along the side of the cell, finding a seat on the bench where Mcdonough’s gratuitous backside had been not too long before. These resets were concerning, almost as much as the rest of his situation at the moment. His diagnosis came back clean, just like it had before. There were no internal error reports between when his mind clicked off and when he came back online, even stranger, there weren’t any reports at all. He couldn’t find any of the usual data on coolant levels, body temperature, external movement. Nothing. 

On the bright side, it didn’t seem like anything damaging had happened while Nick was “asleep.” What bothered Nick the most was the timing. Blackouts like this occurring the same time he was arrested and put on trial? It couldn’t be a coincidence. Nick’s most optimistic theory was that it was some sort of ‘information overload’ in his processors - a synth equivalent to stress. Even he knew that the odds of that being the case were slim. The detective in him was frustrated; all these pieces and no puzzle box insight. Nick could only hope that the timing was coincidental, and that town hadn’t accidentally had him pegged as a secret Institute spy…

Either way, it was in Nick’s best interest to keep these little sleeping spells to himself. 

“-And besides, it’s unhygienic!” Came the voice Nick’s neural net had been trained to loath over the past couple of days. “How can you expect me to address the people looking like this? I look like- like some common Wastelander!” 

The sharp clank of the cell door cut off McDonough’s indignant griping.

“Look, Mayo- Uh…” The young guard stumbled over his words, scratching his head. “Look. I’ll ask the boss if we can get you a shower before the trial, but I can’t let you just walk around while we still don’t know if you’re a synth, you know?” 

Valentine snorted humorlessly. “Yeah, and this trial is gonna nail that one down definitively?” He said. “Send my regards to the geniuses who’ve figured out how to tell a synth from a human without cracking open their skulls. They’ll be the next hero of the Commonwealth.”

“Quiet you,” The guard said. Predictable. Nick ground his teeth behind thin lips, another old habit picked up from a deadman. 

He missed smoking; somehow having something between his fingers made thinking easier, and the smell helped keep his mind occupied if there were idiots in the room demanding his attention. 

“This is outrageous,” McDonough huffed, taking a seat next to Nick. He was closer than Nick would have liked (especially since the man’s request for a shower had been denied) but the only other option was the floor and Nick was tired of sitting on the ground like a kindergartner. 

The silence was awkward, but Nick felt blessed by it anyway. It wasn’t going to last - if McDonough went more than ten minutes without saying something he might bust an artery - but it at least gave Nick some time to process things clearly. 

If he were being entirely honest with himself, none of this felt real. The whole situation left him feeling like he was stuck in a bad session at the memory lounger. Being locked in prison with McDonough, the town in open revolt, and Nick stuck smack in the center of all the paranoia building up over the years. Nick couldn’t have anticipated things would get so bad so fast. As it stood, the whole situation was one pire away from becoming a full-blown witch hunt, and Nick was about to play the role of Tituba. He hoped his story would end like hers, but with all he could gather about the state of the town from down here, it wasn’t likely. 

And that was the hardest fact for Nick to wrap his head around - the fact that there may not be an out for him this time. Nick’s had more than his fill of dangerous situations across his two lifetimes, but he was always quick on his feet, he was smart, found just the right words to unlock people’s hearts and minds. But this wasn’t like being kidnapped by the Chicago mob, or like stumbling into the den of a pair of deathclaws mid-coitus, or any of the other dozens of times he’d been caught with his back against the wall. Every other time there’d been an enemy he could either defeat or escape from, there was something he could do that - win or lose - would have some effect on whether he got out with his sometimes-metaphorical skin intact. But there wasn’t an enemy this time - the people who wanted him dead were his neighbors, his friends. And there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it. His only hope rested on a trial that, more likely than not, had already had its outcome decided. 

Nick felt trapped. He was trapped. There wasn’t likely to be any chance to escape between now and the trial, and even if there was, the guard would open fire on him with extreme prejudice. It would basically be the same as announcing his guilt right now and walking off to meet the firing squad. 

Two days. Nick had two days before the town decided what to do with him and his voluble cellmate. He’d already gone over what he was going to say; yes, he’s a synth, no he hasn’t been going house to house replacing family members for the past fifty years. Nick knew he could count on a few of the town’s folk to have his back. Arturo wouldn’t come out to Nick’s defense, but so long as they kept the votes anonymous (and that itself wasn’t certain) he wouldn’t vote to convict. Same with the Bobrov brothers, they’d always been friendly with Nick. If Piper was allowed to weigh in she would try to convince as many people as possible that Nick was a saint, the only bad things she had to say about him came when he put client privacy over her journalistic curiosity. 

Would it be enough? Maybe. There was no way for Nick to know for sure, trapped as he was. The mentality in the city could get better, stay the same, or dive headfirst into full-blow mob justice and Nick wouldn’t have the faintest idea until they dragged him out for his trial. At the very least it looked like he had a greater chance of getting out of this marginally intact than McDonough. The city finally seemed to see the light on their malevolent mayor, except instead of voting him out in favor of someone who might actually lead the city in the right direction they had opted for full-blown revolution. 

“These hooligans had better hope I don’t return to my position as mayor when this madness blows over,” McDonough grumbled. Huh. four minutes and eighty-three seconds of quiet - that’s a new record. “I swear I am going to make some changes around here after this is over.”

Nick managed to keep his thoughts to himself; there was a tiny part of him that pitied the man. A very small, barely audible part. McDonough was completely delusional if he thought there was any better outcome for him than ending up thrown out on his ass in the wastes, but who could blame him? 

“Nick,” Nick jumped when McDonough addressed him. It was rare for him to speak directly to anyone rather than just ranting to the air. “When all this is over, I would like you to be the next head of security here.” He said. The air of authority that had taken permanent residence in his tones immediately after being elected was back in full force. “I should have done this ages ago. Diamond City needs someone with judicial experience leading our law enforcement.”

Nick blinked. For all he could tell McDonough was serious, and it just wasn’t in him to shatter whatever mind-bendingly contrived fantasy the man had cooked up for himself. It wasn’t even tempting at this point. They were both royally screwed; if pretending that everything was going to go back to normal kept McDonough from falling apart then why stop him. Nick sighed, leaning his cheek onto his palm and refusing to meet his cellmate’s gaze. 

“Sure McDonough,” He said. “Sounds like a plan.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the former mayor beam and mentally prepared himself for another tirade of future plans and nonsense.

Chapter Text

“A trial?”

Hancock could honestly say he was interested in the news when Ellie approached him. The girl’s looks were starting to catch up with her mentality - her hair was knotted at the ends and dark circles beat under her eyes. Hancock had no idea how she could know about the goings-on of Diamond City when it seemed like she hadn’t left the bar at the Third Rail since she’d barged in on Hancock two days ago. Ellie swayed on her feet a little, and the shine in her eyes hinted at more than just liquor in her system. Still, she managed to stay sharp as ever as she gave Hancock an update on the situation. 

And yeah, Hancock was grateful to have a little bit of news about the city in revolt to the west, it’s just her timing couldn’t have possibly been worse.

“It doesn’t sound much like a trial to me,” Nate said from across the candlelit table. “It sounds more like a thinly-veiled lynching.”

“Exactly!” Ellie said. “They’re putting on some puppet-show court to justify bringing Nick and McDonough out to pasture.” A hand came up and pulled at the frayed hair sticking up from her scalp. “John, this isn’t a game. They’re really gonna kill him.”

Not exactly the kind of romantic dinner conversation Hancock was looking forward to on his first official date with his vault dweller. The Third Rail wasn’t exactly ritzy, but it had Magnolia’s singing and okay-ish beer. It was rare for Hancock to get out in the city with his people these days, and when Nate had swung by with an invitation out Hancock couldn’t possibly turn it down. Just his luck that he would run into Ellie right when the mood was getting DTF-ish. 

“The city is completely shut down, right?” Hancock said. “No one going in, no one going out?” Ellie nodded. “Then I don’t know what you are expecting anyone to do when they can’t even get through the gates, sister.” 

“Break in,” Ellie said as if it were obvious. “This is a city of thieves, drug addicts, and sneaks, remember? Surely there’s someone who’d be willing to mount a rescue mission.” 

“Probably,” Hancock said. “But they ain’t gonna be cheap, and I’m not swingin’ any influence around to help you mount some kind of crazy heist that will more than likely fall on its ass before it even begins.” Hancock realized he was being harsh, and it probably wasn’t a good look for him when he had a cute, soft-hearted man sitting across the table from him. And yeah, maybe seeing Ellie’s face fall did make him feel a little shitty. So Hancock sighed, “Look, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry. This shit sucks; Nick deserves better than this. But facts are there ain’t nothing you or me can do about this. You’d be better of just letting him go, Nicky wouldn’t want you torn up over him like this.” 

Ellie stared at him as if he’d suggest she feed her firstborn to a mirelurk. Her mouth hung open for a solid ten seconds before she spoke again. “How could you say something like that?” She said, voice just above a whisper. “Nick is your friend - for fuck’s sake McDonough is your brother .”

God. Fucking. Dammit. Nate was staring between Ellie and Hancock, processing this new piece of information. Hancock had never hit a woman before, but tonight he was tempted. Hancock pushed his chair back so violently it shook the table. He was on his feet in seconds,  towering over Ellie. To her credit, she didn’t back down, even if she looked pale as a sheet.

“I want you to listen real good,” He hissed. “That man is not my brother. I have no relation to him. I do not care what happens to him. In fact,  if Diamond City doesn’t kill him after all this I’ll walk my ass over there myself and put two in his thick skull myself.” Ellie took a step back because apparently, she wasn’t as stupid as she’d been acting tonight. “The only reason I have been giving you the time of day is because of Nick, and you’re really pushing my patience here, sister.”

The shine in Ellie’s eyes threatened to spill over into tears. The handful of other patrons at the bar all had their collective attention on them. Nate was watching the two of them, still reeling from the latest bombshell dropped tonight. Hancock reached into his pocket, ignoring the belated flinch that came from Ellie and handed her twenty caps. “Get yourself a drink to go and a room at the Rexford, sweetheart. After tonight, I ain’t ever want to see your face  again, you feel me?” 

Ellie looked at the caps as if she’d never seen them before. Hancock sat back down and threw an apologetic look at Nate, who seemed to just now remember they were there together. Maybe there was still a chance that a few drinks and a huff of jet could get the night back on track. Unlikely, given the look in Nate’s eyes. 

To prove him right, Nate finally looked away from Hancock and back to the stunned Ellie. “A heist,” Nate said, repeating Hancock’s words from a minute ago. “There actually might be someone you want to talk to.”

Ellie looked at Nate with all the attention her tipsy, traumatized mind could manage. Hancock himself was more than a little intrigued to hear where this was going.

“There’s this lady in the alley behind the gun shop,” Nate continued, “I think her name is something like Beatrice or Bonnie.”

“Bobbi No-Nose,” Ellie supplied. Nate nodded.

“Yeah well, she kinda approached me about a job earlier today,” Nate said. “I think she’s planning some kind of heist in Diamond City. I didn’t catch her plan, but she probably wouldn’t charge you a consultation fee; she was offering a good deal of caps to anyone who could help her out.” 

Now that was interesting. If Ol’ No-Nose was planning something it probably meant trouble for Hancock. She’d been getting greedy lately, and the word around town was that she didn’t have a lot of nice things to say about Hancock when he had his back to her. He’d been meaning to press down on her for a while now, but life in Goodneighbor had a way of coming up with a lot of distractions, both good and bad. 

Ellie seemed to have the exact same thought. She didn’t look entirely convinced of what Nate was saying, but she nodded along anyways. Nate picked up on it with a shrug. “It’s better than nothing, and you seem pretty desperate to help your friend,” he pointed out. “If you want tomorrow I’ll go with you to see her; I’ve been wanting to meet Nick Valentine for a couple of months now, and it really would be a shame if he died before I got the chance.” 

Not a single emotion showed on Ellie’s face. She nodded, purely exhausted. “Thank you,” she said passionlessly. She turned around, taking her twenty caps and walking out of the bar without giving Nate a definite answer. Hancock watched her leave, still furious but honestly pitying the poor thing. 

“Sorry about all that,” Hancock said when the mood in the room finally settled. Magnolia was singing and everyone seemed to be back about their own business. Hancock, for his part, was ready to put the whole incident behind him and hoped Nate felt the same. “Being mayor is great, but it has a lot of bullshit you gotta deal with.”

“No kidding,” Nate said, chuckling awkwardly. “If this is how all your dates go you must seriously be lonely.” He leaned back in his chair and gave Hancock a wink. “Lucky for you, I’m the understanding type.”

Thank God for that. There were at least four or five game-ending moments in the past ten minutes alone; Hancock really lucked out with this one. 

“So is McDonough really your brother?” 

And there it was. Hancock knew they were going to circle back to that one eventually. At least Nate had the decency not to sit on it all night. If they were going to do this it was better to get it out of the way.

“I’ll answer that one if you tell me why you’re so desperate to hire Nick,” Hancock said. He saw every form of uncomfortable cross Nate’s face. The Vaultie didn’t seem like he could even hold Hancock’s gaze. 

“That’s fair, I guess,” Nate said. He reached for his beer which had long gone flat and took a sip. Hancock was left to wonder if that meant Nate wasn’t going to press the issue, but not for long. As soon as the beer was gone Nate spoke up. “It’s about my wife.”

“Ahh,” Hancock said without thinking. His little catch was married; that explained some things. Hancock couldn’t tell if that stung or not yet, it wasn’t like either of them had gone into this with the expectation of being exclusive. Nate shrugged, reading between the lines. 

“It’s… a real complicated story,” He said. 

“I’ll bet,” Hancock replied. “I can’t imagine any story that begins with a couple of happily married Vaulties and ends with a hook up with a ghoul in Goodneighbor is a simple one.” There was a beat of silence between them. Hancock didn’t like it. “I’ll be honest - you didn’t strike me as into girls.”

“I’m not,” Nate confirmed. “And she wasn’t into boys. It was a convenience thing.” 

“Wasn’t?” Hancock asked. “What happened to her?” 

“She's dead,” Nate said it so simply, it was hard to read any emotion from his words. “A group of people broke into our vault. They were after our son. I have no idea why. They tried to take him from her, she fought back, they killed her. I have no idea where they took our kid, or even if he’s even still alive, but I’m going to find him.”

Hancock was completely silent. For the first time in a long time, he was completely at a loss for words. Nate seemed so casual about it, but there was the way his fingers tapped his glass and the fact that he wouldn’t look Hancock in the eye. When Hancock finally opened his mouth again, all he could say was, “Shit man…” 

Nate smiled again and it was the most wonderful thing Hancock had seen all night. Nate laughed sheepishly. “Yeah...” 

If he were honest, Hancock had half been expecting something like a stolen heirloom or a missing piece of super-secret vault tech. Murder, kidnapping, a widower… It wasn’t the last thing he expected but the combination of all three was pretty fucking heavy for a first date conversation. Hancock hadn't been on an honest date since he was a kid, so maybe he could blame tonight's failings on that.

Hancock nodded. “Well, I can see why you’re after Nick then. If you’re lookin’ to get your son back he’s your guy. The guy could track down just about anyone.”

“That’s what I’ve heard,” Nate said. His distant expression faded and now those pretty dark eyes were focused in on Hancock. “So. Your turn - McDonough. What’s the story there?”

Hancock couldn’t help but laugh. “Shit, after all that my story is gonna seem pretty fuckin’ weak.”

“I’m a tough act to follow,” Nate teased. The look on his face made Hancock forget just about everything else that happened that night. Hancock’s mind was made up; even if it took until dawn he was going to get Nate out of that stupid-looking spandex vault suit this time. 

---

Nick sat with his handcuffed arms on his lap, staring down at his nails. It was impossible to hear what was going on outside clearly from where he sat in the stadium hallway. Every so often he could catch McDonough’s voice and a handful of words, but nothing he could make sense of. There were guards on either side of Nick; both were armed with heavy assault rifles. Seemed like overkill to him; Nick was loathed to admit it, but he was old - it wouldn’t take more than a few knocks from a baseball bat to take him down. It wasn’t like he was in any shape to try to make a break for it anyhow. 

The trial had been going on for over half an hour - it was longer than Nick had expected the town to give them. Maybe they really were interested in finding out if McDonough was a synth before executing him? He wished he could hear what questions were being asked if only so he could be prepared for his turn in the hot seat. 

Nick wasn’t the anxious type. He didn’t even have nerves to get frayed anymore. He couldn’t recall if the human Nick had ever experienced anxiety. Fear, sure. Depression, without a doubt. But anxiety was a different beast entirely. It crept along his mind and made it hard to think clearly while also demanding every inch of his attention. It made him want to get up and pace, bounce his leg, drum his fingers. Minutes dragged and at the same time shot by; he wanted to get this over with and at the same time he hoped for just a few more minutes to get his thoughts together.

There was little he could do to prepare that he hadn’t already done. Without knowing exactly what he was really being accused of nor what to expect when it came to questioning, all Nick could do was hope for the best and prepare for the worst. 

There were moments when the crowd would have a strong reaction and the sound would echo ominously through the halls. It was hard to tell if they were yelling in McDonough’s defense or calling for his execution - sometimes it sounded like both. In the end, the cacophonous fervor rose to a deafening roar. When the door opened to let McDonough and his guards back in Nick thought the sound might actually damage his auditory. 

McDonough, led through in handcuffs by armed guards, walked confidently with a genuine smile on his face. Well, at least he seemed to think things went well. Whether they actually had or not was another matter - the final twenty-four hours before the trial seemed to have finally put a crack in McDonough’s sense of reality. He spent the entire morning ordering the guards around as though he were still in charge and levying threats against them when no one complied. Pathetic was the only word Nick could come up with to describe it, but that seemed harsh, even for McDonough. 

The guards around Valentine shifted, and the detective forced himself to stand. Welp, time to get this show on the road then. 

Nick was led out into the midday sun under the scrutiny of just about every eye in Diamond City. It was the first time Nick had seen natural light in days - it took his optics a few seconds to adjust. While he blinked he was treated to a roaring wave of screams, jeers, and encouragement. 

“It’s Valentine!”

“Kill the synth!”

“He’s innocent!”

“The Institute has no place in Diamond City!”

“Don’t let it try to run!”

“Nick isn’t one of them, let him go!”

“Humanity will rise again.”

Nick stopped trying to pick individual voices out of the rabble; his head couldn’t take the constant assault. When his eyes finally adjusted he turned his head to look at what he was up against. Not once across either of his lifetimes had Nick ever had so much attention put on him. It was enough to make him trip on his way up the steps of the platform where the mayors of Diamond City had given their speeches and addressed the people in years past. There weren’t any fancy decorations or flags there now, just a single podium and several armed guards. Nick tried to keep his head up and a smile on his face - it wouldn’t help him to curl in on himself under the weight of the malevolent crowd, even if he wanted nothing more than to shrink away.

This was nothing more than theater, Nick reminded himself, and if he wanted any chance of making it out alive he needed to play his part perfectly: an innocent man caught up in a city-wide lapse in judgment.

Nick was almost at the podium when he saw Piper in the crowd. His heart broke for her all over again when he met her gaze. The guilt she was carrying for all this wasn’t fair; Nick was just glad the city hadn’t turned on her too - yet. If this continued for much longer Nick was certain he and McDonough wouldn’t be the only victims in this witch hunt. 

There was a call for silence and an eerie hush descended over the crowd. Guess that meant it was showtime. 

“Nick Valentine,” The man who spoke had a thick Boston accent. Nick recognized him as one of the guards who had often been assigned to protect McDonough; he was probably one of the people who arrested the mayor. “The people of Diamond City have a right to security in their homes. Your kind has posed an existential threat to all of humanity, yet you were permitted to live among us because of your service to the late mayor Roberts.” Nick had to try not to wince at the phrase ‘your kind’ levied at him. He couldn’t tell if it hurt more to be associated with the mindless drone-like synths of the Institute or to be blanketed in with a group of people being condemned. “Now the city is facing a crisis - synths are living among us, replacing loved ones, possibly even holding elected office. Unlike with McDonough, we are not here today to question your humanity - rather, the people of Diamond City want to know what role you have played in allowing the Institute to infiltrate our city.”

“None,” Nick said after a short pause. “The Institute hasn’t wanted anything to do with me since as far back as I can remember, and I don’t hold any lost love for them either.” 

The crowd got rowdy again after that, and Nick struggled to keep a straight face as his processors were assaulted with an extraordinary amount of input. Little of what was being screamed was intelligible from up on stage, but it seemed like an argument had broken out between those who believed him and those who didn’t. The guards tried to restore order among the crowd, and when that failed they fired off their rifles into the air. The crowd descended back into muttering as the man in charge addressed Nick again. 

“Nick Valentine,” The guard said. “Can you tell the people how it was you came across Henry Robert’s daughter? The one you rescued in order to secure your residence in our city.”

“I didn’t save the girl for some kind of reward,” Nick snapped back, unable to keep his offense from his tone. “I didn’t even know who she was at the time. She was scared and alone, tied up with some maniac bragging to his pals about how he was going to sell her off to some caravan. I did what any decent person would do in that situation.” 

“You’re not a person!” 

As soon as whoever-it-was yelled that the crowd was back to shouting. Nick couldn’t tell if they had been this passionate for McDonough’s trial; he felt like there had been a lot less audience participation there. More gunfire, and the guards had restored the peace. Nice had a feeling this was going to drag on for a long while… 

---

“A-and so, Mayor Hancock,” A nervous Mel stuttered out, “with the acoustic resonator installed, S-Sonia should be able to tunnel under j-just about any foundation in the Commonwealth, sir.”

“Uh-huh,” Hancock said, holding his hands behind his back. Christ, if the kid kept talking like that he was going to need an entire pack of Mentats to deal with this conversation. “And where exactly were you planning on taking this little party before I showed up?” 

“W-well, I mean,” Mel was sweating now, looking between Hancock, Fahrenheit, Nate, and Bobbi as if wanting one of them to answer for him. “T-that was kinda up to Bobbi… ya know?”

“I dig ya,” Hancock said with a chuckle. He was done razzing Bobbi’s poor patsy - for such a smart man he sure was dumb when it came to her. “Relax, man, we’re all friends here, right Bobbi?” 

Bobbi huffed, arms crossed in front of her chest. She snarled but seemed to know better than to talk back to Hancock. Smart move - He was more than a little pissed at her at the moment. 

“So is it actually possible to get under Diamond City like this?” Nate asked.

“Sure, yeah,” Mel nodded. He was far more relaxed when talking with Nate, which made sense. Nate had less of a reputation for murderous revenge than Hancock or Fahr. “I mean, it would be a matter of finding the right combination of tunnels and sewers, but with that map, Bobbi’s got I’m sure it wouldn’t be too hard. Diamond City has a massive sewer system right under it that’s been closed off ever since the war.”

“Fantastic,” Hancock said. “So it should be an easy find, since No-Nose here has been after Diamond City’s stronghold for months now, right Bobbi?” 

“Blow it out your ass, Hancock,” She snipped at him. She was still pretty moody about Hancock waking her up at five in the morning with his little entourage to insert themselves into her scheme. The map Hancock found was pretty well marked, and her target was nowhere fucking near Diamond City. Still, water under the bridge - so long as she helped out Nate in his plan to bust Nick from the slammer.

Mel stood there awkwardly between them, still unsure if Hancock was planning to put a bullet in both of them when this was all over. To be fair, Hancock was also not sure about that yet. He’d see where the day took them. 

“Point being, we’re going to have to act fast,” Nate said. “The trial is probably going on right now, and it’s unlikely that it’s going to go in Valentine’s favor. I doubt we have more than thirty-six hours before they execute. Probably less.”

“Okay that’s… not a lot of time,” Mel said. The mechanic flinched when he met Fahrenheight’s gaze and amended his statement. “N-not impossible! It’s just… the hardest part here is getting into the city undetected.” Mel swallowed. “A store room’s a storeroom, but a city full of people… I mean, Sonia’s digging abilities are acoustic-based. She makes a lot of noise.” 

“So we’ll need a distraction,” Nate said, rubbing his chin. He turned to address the room. “Any ideas?” 

“We can send Hancock in to negotiate with the locals,” Bobbi mocked. “I bet that would cause one hell of a commotion.”

“That could work,” Hancock shrugged. “We could also try dropping you off the side of the wall; I bet it would take them hours to scrape the bits of you off the pavement.” 

“Uh, well,” Mel piped up. “I actually happened to be in Diamond City’s jail just before they locked down.” 

“Why doesn’t that shock me?" Fahrenheit sighed. 

Mel ducked his head and continued. “I was able to let myself out early because the robots in the city have minimal security on them. It was really easy to get into the terminals there and set the protectron they had to attack mode. I bet I can rig something up that can trigger all the bots in the city remotely.” 

Nate frowned. “I really want to avoid violence here,” He said. Bobbi rolled her eyes. 

“Make up your mind,” she said. “You want to break into one of the most secure settlements in the Commonwealth while they’re under lockdown - sorry kid but a few eggs might have to get broken.” 

“Not necessarily,” Mel said. “I disabled the guns on the protectron first. Bloodless schemes are always better in the long run.” 

Bobbi nodded in reluctant agreement. 

“That still doesn’t solve the problem of getting in and out quietly,” Fahrenheit said. 

“There’s a sewer pipe near the jail that I was able to hide in while I was escaping,” Mel explained. “It’s blocked off by debris, but Sonia could clear it while the city tries to get their bots back under control.” 

“That could work,” Nate said thoughtfully. Hancock, for his part, wasn’t entirely convinced.

“Everyone there’s gonna assume it’s an attack from the Institute,” he said. “That could make things a whole lot worse for us.”

“It’s the best plan I’ve heard so far,” Nate said. “Unless we can think of something else in the next twelve hours, I say it’s our best shot.” 

“Besides, why do you care?” Bobbi shot at Hancock. “It’s our asses on the line here. You get to hang back in that fancy office of yours with your boots on your desk and your thumb up your ass.” 

Hancock quirked his mouth but didn’t bother responding. With that, Fahrenheit started ordering Bobbi and Mel around, pushing them to start making their plans a reality. Nate dove in with them, talking through details with Mel while Bobbi plotted out their new course. Hancock hung back and watched, fishing out a canister of jet from his coat while everyone else did the heavy lifting. It was good to be the mayor sometimes. 

“Is he really worth all this trouble?” Fahrenheit asked when she was done bossing people around. She nodded at the vault dweller while his back was turned,  leaned against the wall next to her boss. Hancock passed off the canister of Jet to her so she could take a puff. He shrugged off her question with a sigh. 

“Sure, why not?” Hancock said. “Besides, he helped me thwart Bobbi’s little scheme here.”

“It would have never worked anyways,” Fahrenheit said. “My boys and I would have stopped her before she put one poorly-manicured finger on our shit.” 

“I believe it, sister,” Hancock chuckled. “But also I don’t mind helpin’ out Nicky. He really is a good guy - saved my ass more than once back when I lived in the city.” 

“I can’t imagine the kind of trouble you used to get into,” Fahrenheit shook her head. She thought for a moment then gave Hancock a meaningful stare. “You’re planning on going with them, aren’t you?” 

“I might be,” Hancock replied.

“As your advisor and friend, I have to say - that’s a shit idea,” She told him. “We don’t need Goodneighbor tangled up in Diamond City business, and you don’t need to get your ass shot while prancing about the Commonwealth with some Vaultie.” 

“He ain’t just some Vaultie, he’s my Vaultie,” Hancock corrected her. She rolled her eyes. “And it’s not just him. It’s me.” Hancock sighed, leaning back against the pipes running along the walls of Bobbi’s home. “I’ve been cooped up in my office for ages. I miss being out there, Fahr. Do you know how long it’s been since I shot a Super Mutant? Or got high in a pre-war car? Or had sex in a pre-war car?”

Fahrenheit made a face “I prefer not to think about that,” She said. 

“I miss the thrills of life, ya know?” Hancock said. “I feel like I don’t even know my own people anymore.” 

Fahrenheit made a noise that on anyone else might have been a sigh. She passed back the canister of Jet and pulled out a cigarette from her jacket pocket. “I still think this is a stupid plan.” She said, cigarette between her teeth as she lit it. “But if that’s what you want I can’t stop you. Just make sure people know I’m in charge before you galavant off to have your mid-life crisis with your new boyfriend. I’m not dealin’ with people’s shit if they don’t like that you’re gone.” 

Hancock laughed. “See, that’s why I like you, Fahr,” He said. “Practical, level headed, and you let me do dumb shit I wanna do.” 

She shrugged, but there was that rare smile on her face that told Hancock she understood. “What are friends for?”

Chapter Text

Mortality was a strange concept to Nick. Considering he was “born” into this world in a trash heap 200 years after Nick Valentine - the person he still partly believed he was - had already hopped off the moral coil, Nick felt he handled the idea of death pretty well. It still opened a pit inside of him he wasn’t quite ready to look into yet. Damn the Institute - right behind pain, thanatophobia was probably the most inconvenient feature to purposefully install in a person. 

Nick was lying across the bench in his cell, a lit cigarette between his fingers brought to his synthetic lips in a rhythmic motion. It was soothing, familiar, mechanical. It helped him process the news that had been brought to him half an hour prior. 

Guilty. Both of them. Execution was tomorrow morning. 

The vote had apparently been more split on Nick than with McDonough. Overwhelmingly the town voted against the former mayor, but when it came to the synth detective the city seemed completely divided. In the end, it didn’t matter, by two or two-hundred votes they’d voted him dead. Nick wondered this was how Aristotle felt when he got the news. 

“This can’t be happening.” 

Nick closed his eyes. McDonough had been repeating the same damn thing like a broken holotape ever since they’d found out. Nick couldn’t blame him, irritating as it was; he still couldn’t believe it himself. McDonough paced in front of the bars, pulling at his hair and scratching his arms like a junkie. If Nick weren’t so wrapped up in his own existential crisis he might actually feel sorry for the guy. 

Poor Piper; he really hoped he got a chance to talk to her before they decided to pull the trigger. None of this was her fault, but he knew she was going to spend the rest of her life beating herself up over this. And then there was Ellie. There was no possible way Nick would ever see her again, but that didn’t stop him from thinking about her. What was the last thing she’d said to him before she left? Nick’s memory used to be like a recording, but over time it had gotten faded. She had been in tears and upset, but she hadn’t yelled at him. He remembered that she threw her arms around him and told him something like “be safe” or “I’ll come back as soon as I can.” 

Nick should have said something to her then. Ellie had been a part of his life more than anyone else. It started with her working for him, then living with him, and then it became something else. It was difficult to put a label on their relationship thanks in large part to Nick’s mechanical nature and false memories of lost love. Ellie was sweet, she deserved better than Nick; she deserved a man, not a machine, and one with at least two suitcases less baggage than Nick. He knew Ellie didn’t see it that way, and maybe every once in a while he indulged the fantasy for both their sakes. Too late now. Ellie was going to be heartbroken and Nick couldn’t even be there to tell her it's gonna be alright. 

“This is a disaster. I don’t understand... how this could happen?” McDonough muttered. Nick put his cigarette in his mouth, drew in the sweet taste of Tortious Grey smoke, and blew out. McDonough coughed and glared at Nick. It was nice of the guards to let him smoke the night before his execution, but a little part of Nick wondered if they did it just to piss off McDonough. There wasn’t much ventilation down here. 

Nick had lived a long life - technically he lived two long lives. His body showed it too; it had been a long time since he had the appearance of something possibly humanoid. Smoke rose from the recent holes in his neck. Time had taken its toll on him, physically and mentally, but that didn’t exactly mean he was ready to give up on existing just yet. 

“I don’t understand how you can just sit and smoke there at a time like this,” McDonough snapped at Nick after a bout of coughing. 

“What else is there to do?” Nick said. 

“Why are you so calm, Valentine? Don’t you understand?” McDonough stopped pacing and turned to face Nick. “They’re going to kill us! Don’t you care? Of course, you don’t, you're just a damn machine!” 

“Of course I care,” Nick sneered, sitting up. “I’m not exactly thrilled about being shot in the head either, the only difference is I’m capable of a little composure and dignity.” 

McDonough flushed, offended. He opened his mouth, probably to say something inane and argumentative, but Nick didn't hear him.  Something in Nick’s head twitched, like a wrench jammed in a gear. He couldn't even think about how strange and wrong it felt because the thing that jammed was the very thing that made him think. 

Cognition Override, Authorization Beta Charlie Four One Two

And just like that Nick was unconscious again. 

---

It took him almost a full minute to realize he was ranting to himself. 

M7-62 turned around to find Nick Valentine slumped over. Its eyes were still open, but the LEDs were off, which somehow made the old synth look even more eerie than usual. The lit cigarette was still glowing between its fingers but slowly going out. M7 frowned, stepping forward to examine his cellmate. 

“Mr. Valentine?” he said. After several seconds of no response, he huffed, glaring over the smoke filled room. “It’s about time you showed up.”

“You underestimate the difficulty of entering this facility undetected,” X6-88 stated, appearing from a hallway behind the cells. “The rogue synth’s unusual affinity for cigarettes has been useful for clearing the room, despite the unflattering fragrance.” The courser wrinkled his nose.  

As always, the courser put M7 on edge. They were the Institute’s elites assassins, after all.  Regardless, M7 appreciated his contact; after his arrest, he had been left somewhat uncertain about what the Institute wanted him to do. At first, he had worried that they were just going to allow these uncivilized cretins to eliminate him. However, those doubts were put to rest once the courser started showing up. X6-88 was well known for being put on high-priority missions, which meant M7 was still valued, despite this setback. 

“Quite,” M7 said. He approached the bars so he could properly start their conversation. “X6-88, the trial did not go as the Institute expected. These barbarians have voted in favor of execution - against me! Their mayor!” It still offended him for some reason. M7-62 was an infiltration synth, a spy - he was only playing the role of a mayor so that he could keep Diamond City from anti-Institute influence. Yet, in the decades of masquerading as their mayor, he had performed many genuine mayoral duties for the people of Diamond City. The betrayal should have been expected - the humans of the surface word were little more than savages with stolen technology - and yet it stung all the same. A malfunction, certainly, and one he would never admit to unless he wanted to be 'reprogrammed' by the SRB. 

“The Institute is well aware of the outcome of your trial,” X6-88 said. His voice was a constant monotone, yet M7 could have sworn he heard a note of irritation in there. “Your performance was inadequate for acquittal, and as such, the Institute is forced to rely on backup measures to ensure the cooperation of Diamond City. It is an unfortunate outcome, to be sure.”

“Don’t try to pin this on me!” M7 snapped, forgetting for a second that he was speaking to someone superior to him in every conceivable way. “It’s these people! They’re deranged, uncivilized, bloodthirsty psychopaths!”

“Be that as it may,” X6-88 replied calmly as ever, “Your failure to adapt to the situation has caused the Institute a major setback. Father is disappointed.” M7 felt there was more he could say in his own defense, but remembered his place and remained silent. “I need your passcode to enter the terminal in your office, as well as the location of the key to your safe. The Institute would like to compile your records for archival purposes.”

“I will give my full report as soon as we return,” M7 said. When he saw the frown on X6’s face deepen, he knew what was coming next.

“You are not returning with me,” X6-88 said. “Aside from the development of obvious malfunctions to your programming, your execution will serve to restabilize Diamond City and pave the way for your replacement.”

“My replacement!?” M7 shouted and grabbed the bars separating him from X6-88. The few strands of hair he had left on his head stuck to the sweat on his forehead - curse the Mcdonoughs' genetics. “I’ve done everything required of me by the Institute for years . This incident has been a disaster, yes, I’ll admit - but that’s no grounds for me to be discarded !” 

“This is non-negotiable,” X6-88 replied. It seemed he was done with the conversation, impatiently crossing his arms and staring through the bars at the caged synth. “Your passcode, M7-62.”

M7 was certain he was malfunctioning. His face felt hot, and it wasn’t entirely from the smoke rising from the burnt-out stub of a cigarette in the gen-2’s hand. The indignation and rage he felt were unwarranted - it had always been possible he would need to sacrifice himself for the sake of preserving the Institute - but the feeling of terror and indignation pushed through him regardless. 

“You bastard ,” M7-62 hissed. “If you don’t get me out of here I’ll- I’ll- I’ll tell .” A laugh tore through his throat and ended in a sputtering cough. He sucked in the arcid air in a staggering breath and glared at the unimpressed Courser. “I’ll tell everyone in the city what the Institute had me do. I’ll tell them everything, the names of every synth I know, the location of the Institute-”

“Go ahead,” X6-88 said, and this time his mouth did twitch. The Courser was smiling , just a little. M7 felt the blood drain from his face. “The Institute has already planned for such an eventuality; your actions from here on out will, at most, be a minor inconvenience to the Institute.”

“That’s-”

“And as for revealing the location of the Institute, I believe you will find that to be quite impossible,” X6-88 continued. “Such information was long since removed from your cognition; it was deemed far too much of a risk in case of your discovery.”

M7’s eyes widened. He wanted to tell the C=courser that wasn’t true, that of course he remembered how to get back into the Institute. Except, he didn’t. He felt where the memory should be, but in its place he found nothing. His eyes flicked back and forth - as if that might somehow help him find what he lost. There was a dark chuckle and M7 looked up in astonishment to see the courser laughing - just barely, hardly even audible, but X6-88 was laughing at him.

“Now, M7-62,” He said. “If we are done with this pointless game of threats, I would like your passcode and key. I can find them myself, but it would save the Institute and myself valuable time if you just cooperated.” 

M7 starred at X6-88, briefly forgetting how to speak. The enormity of the situation finally made itself known to him and he could hardly believe what was happening. Years of loyalty, service, unwavering support - and he was being thrown out, discarded like a document to be shredded . They had already wiped his memory of any useful leverage long before this; they had never trusted him at all, had they?

“Sorry to butt in,” A gravely, out-of-place voice came from the shadows. Both he and the Courser turned to look in the direction of the sound as two figures appeared in the smoke-filled room. “Hope we’re not interrupting anything, Mayor .” 

At first, M7 didn’t recognize the voice as anything other than a ghoul. It irked him somewhere deep down that, of course, on the eve of his greatest failure as a synth, there was a ghoul infesting his city too. Then he caught sight of the red coat and ridiculous hat and glared.

“John,” M7 hissed. Somehow, it was even worse than if one of the guards had caught him talking to the courser. His “brother”’s face peered back at him, a sardonic, murderous smile on his face. 

“I prefer Hancock these days, actually,” He said with a shrug. “Matches my outfit.”

Irritating as ever, it seemed. Seeing him here was salt in the wound of an already terrible night. The man Hancock entered with stood awkwardly beside him, watching the reunion. He wore a vault suit with stealth combat armor plastered on top; the combination raised a myriad of questions. 

“Ah, I see,” X6-88 said, turning to face the newcomers. “Mayor John Hancock of Goodneighbor,” He nodded to the ghoul then turned to the man standing beside him that M7 had never seen before. “And you must be Nate, the Father of Father.”

“What!?” M7 snapped, staring at the out-of-place vault dweller. Him? That was the man causing all the fuss back at the Institute? That was the man from before the war who Father was pinning all their hopes on? From the confused look on his face, he had absolutely no idea what the courser meant, nor any idea of his own significance. 

As per usual since his fall from mayoral importance, M7-62's outburst was ignored. 

“I had been hoping to meet you for some time now, though your timing is less than ideal,” X6-88 said, stepping forward to greet the vault dweller. “I take it you are responsible for the chaos outside?”

The vault dweller - father’s father - Nate - shrugged. “It seemed like the easiest way to keep the guards distracted while we sprung Nick.”

X6-88 made a confused face, then nodded in understanding. “Ah, the rouge generation 2 prototype,” he said. “You’re here for it.”

“We’re here for Nick ,” Hancock corrected sternly, sneering at the course. X6-88 held his gaze unwaveringly. Despite the way M7 loathed the ghoul, he felt a pang of nervousness for him. John had no idea who he was speaking to, nor what X6-88 could do to him if the courser decided that Hancock was an ‘acceptable loss.’

“I see,” X6-88 said, stepping past them. “Then I will not stand between you and your mission. The Institute is eager to see your progress, Nate, and ascertaining the assistance of this particular synth is a wise decision.”

“The Institute is watching me?” Nate said, starring after X6-88. “Why?” 

X6 paused at the door to the hall, seeming thoughtful. After a moment of deliberation, he said, “It is a… personal project of our director. Shaun is very eager to meet you.”

The look on Nate’s face was a mix of emotions M7 had never seen before on anyone. Realization, hurt, confusion, desperation . He charged after the courser with a shout of "Wait!! Stop!", but X6 had already teleported away, leaving Nate alone with Hancock, M7, and a deactivated Valentine. 

“So,” Hancock said after a minute. His eyes turned back to the cell but carefully avoided falling on M7. “Shall we continue before the guards tackle Takahashi?” 

“Y… yeah, sure,” Nate said, stepping back from where he had started his charge. He pulled out a case of tools from his back pocket and got to work on the lock. The silence in the room mixed evenly with the smoke, choking up M7 so that he was the only one to break the stillness with bouts of coughing. 

“I’m surprised you haven’t had anything to say about all this, Nicky,” Hancock said after a minute, still ignoring M7 entirely. “By now I expected at least one witty remark out of you. Maybe somethin' about the irony of two synths and a ghoul in Diamond City?” 

Unsurprisingly, The synth said nothing in its comatose state. M7 rolled his eyes and coughed.

“He’s deactivated,” M7 informed his ‘brother’. “It’s a remote sequence the Institute uses to control their older models.” One that he has also forgotten, thanks to the memory wipe M7 never noticed he received. 

“How do we re-activate him?” Hancock asked, still not looking at him. 

“The effect wears off after a few hours, he’ll be back to normal soon.”

It was quiet again, save for the tinkering sound of bobby pins and tumblers, and the occasional soft curse from Nate. 

“So… Humanity for McDonough, huh?” Hancock finally said. He was looking at M7 now, though his black eyes were narrowed. “Looks like now we both don’t belong in your little paradise.” 

M7 rolled his eyes. “My situation has nothing to do with yours; I am not a synth because of some immature teenage rebellion and drug use.”

Hancock glared at M7 and M7 glared right back. He had too many memories of this selfish little brat to count. He was the last person M7 would allow to shame him. Surprisingly, Hancock was the one to break their little staring contest first. He put his head in his hand and sighed.

“Look, man,” He said with a sigh. “I get that the Institute has you brainwashed to hell and back, but if you could do me one little favor, I’d appreciate it.”

“I’m not doing anything for you , John,” M7 spat back. “If there is only one positive thing about this situation it is that after tomorrow I will never have to see or think of you again.”

“I just wanna know when you did it,” Hancock said. “When did my brother stop being my brother and start being you.” The anger was there in his voice, but the edge was dulled. A desperate, pleading undertone was present in a subtle way that only the memories of knowing John as a child could help him detect. The John in his memories had light blue eyes that used to sparkle when he was about to cry, and while those eyes were now black as coal and hardened with hate, he could still see in Hancock the same hurt that had been there since childhood. The unbelonging, the disappointment, the depression masked by hedonism that had kept him and his brother from ever seeing eye-to-eye.

M7 laughed. It was definitely a malfunction. If he were human he would have been called insane; Nate stopped fidgeting with the lock to stare at him for a moment, and Hancock took a step away from the bars. His fit of hysteria ended with a cough. 

“No,” He said when he composed himself again, shaking his head. “You want closure? After all this time, that's all you have to say to me? After you ran off to some drug den to avoid responsibility and never came back? You didn't care then what your big brother thought about you, so what's different now? You want me to tell you that your big brother was just misunderstood, that he really, deep down, he always loved you? That really it was all just the big bad Institute that made him the person he was? Do you really think he would have run down to the gutters of Goodneighbor and stopped you from being the immature, selfish, spoiled little brat you are?” M7 leaned against the bars. “No. I'm not telling you when I replaced your brother - I’m not giving you that peace, John, you don’t deserve it.” Hancock had been stunned throughout the speech, but now he was enraged . He reached through the bars and grabbed M7 by the shirt and slammed him into the metal. 

“You fucking piece of shit ,” Hancock hissed. M7 snarled. 

“It must run in the family,” He growled back. 

There was a click and a creek. The door to the cell swung open and Nate walked inside. M7 was still held firmly by Hancock, but he watched as Nate came inside and stood awkwardly over the synth detective. For a moment it seemed like he was at a complete loss for how to precede - how could someone like that possibly be the father of the director? - but then he reached down and plucked the cigarette from Nick’s hand before kneeling down and pulling the synth over his shoulder. With a little maneuvering he got the synth into a more portable position.

“Huh, he’s a lot lighter than I expected,” Nate said, ignoring the confrontation between Hancock and McDonough entirely. He turned to John with a nod of his head. “Let’s head out. Mel said we only had about ten minutes before the ‘bots would go back to normal.”

The vice grip on M7 came loose and Hancock stepped away. He gave M7 one last meaningful stare before looking away and walking off to meet up with Nate. M7, at a loss, followed behind the vault dweller towards the cell door. As soon as Nate was out Hancock slammed it shut, locking M7 inside. He felt his heart skip a beat.

“Wait!” He shouted, rushing forward. “You can’t just leave me here!”

“Sure I can - watch,” Hancock said jovially. He turned to leave, but Nate stopped to open the door back up. Hancock snatched his wrist. “Nate, leave it,” he said. 

“Aw, come on,” Nate said. “It really doesn’t seem fair to just leave him to the wolves like this…”

“He’s right! It’s not!!” M7 pleaded. A wave of regret passed over him; perhaps the satisfaction of telling Hancock off could have been saved for later. “Please, John, I won’t cause any trouble. Let me out and you’ll never see me again.”

“You sure do change your tune fast when it’s your ass on the line,” Hancock rolled his eyes. “Why should I do anything for you? You’re not my brother - and more importantly, you kinda are. He dug his grave when he decided to be a racist asshole, and you dug yours by replacing him. I don’t owe you a goddamn thing.”

M7 looked at Hancock with wide eyes. Of all the bravo and anger he had spit out before, he really didn’t want to die here. He gripped the bar with shaking hands, unsure of what to say. Hancock turned again to walk off but Nate went back to the door, inserting his pin and unlocking the door with far greater speed the second time around. 

“Come on, Hancock,” Nate said with a sigh, “if we leave him here then we’re just as bad as he is.”

Hancock growled as the door opened and M7 sheepishly stepped outside. “You’re lucky he has a soft spot for synths with sob stories,” Hancock growled. M7 couldn’t look at him; he kept pace behind the two as they left the Diamond City prison behind

Chapter Text

Nick was laying down, which was strange because he was supposed to be sitting up. 

Nick wasn’t holding a cigarette, which he should be since just a second ago he’d had one halfway to his mouth. 

Nick was in the State House attic in Goodneighbor when between blinks he had been in Diamond City prison.

What on earth …. He thought.

Chronometer report: 11:32:43 PM EST

He’d blacked out again, it seemed. Only this time Nick had apparently missed something major between the hours of 8:00 and 11:30.

Nick sat up, finding his hat laid respectfully over his chest. He placed it on his head and rolled off the dirty floor mattress. The attic wasn’t crowded tonight; several of the other beds were empty while only two had the passed out figures of junkies Hancock invited off the street on them. Must be a slow night. 

Nick found that his joints were stiff and sore, as though someone had been bending them against their natural torque. He rolled his shoulders and paced a few steps to shake out the feeling and recalibrate. He needed to get his bearings in more ways than one. When Nick finally felt stretched out enough to walk he headed for the stairs. 

He needed to find John. Not that Nick wasn’t immensely grateful to be off death row for the moment, but he still had a thousand questions about the situation - how he got here and what happened now that he was there, namely. Nick wasn’t entirely sure this wasn’t some kind of dream or hallucination caused by the malfunctions he’d been suffering lately. 

Nick kept one hand on the rail as he descended the stairs into the State House proper. He didn’t trust himself not to trip with his legs feeling so shaky. It was hard to say what was causing that particular hiccup in his systems, but he couldn’t help relate it to the odd buzzing in his processors as they tried to make sense of his surroundings. Nick passed one of Hancock’s guards on the way down. The watchmen tipped his hat and nodded at Nick amiably, Nick gave him a smile before turning the corner to Hancock’s office. 

The door was thankfully open - there were only two reasons Hancock ever shut that door, and Nick was glad there was neither an emergency meeting going on nor any personal visits he might risk walking in on.  

“Nicky! Good to see you back on your feet!”

Hancock’s voice, deep and rough, was a blessing. The decadent ghoul was perched on his favorite couch next to a handsome young gentleman in a vault suit, a canister of Jet in one hand and a cigarette in the other. Hancock was on his feet in a heartbeat and gliding over to Nick with his arms outstretched. Nick accepted the hug, since there wasn’t any other option, and gave a slight chuckle despite himself. 

“It’s good to see you too, John,” He said, stepping back from the embrace as soon as he was let loose. “Though I’m more than a little curious as to how I ended up here all the way here.” 

“You can thank our new friend for that one,” Hancock said, nodding back towards the auburn man in the jumpsuit on his cough. He smiled politely and gave Nick a wave. “He may not look it, but he’s a schemer - don’t turn your back on him for too long.”

“That so?” Nick said, looking over the man. There was no doubt in his mind that he was Hancock’s current flame, or at the very least Hancock was trying to make it that way. He was muscular, soft, but with a hidden strength that lurked just beneath the surface - it was practically a hand-crafted recipe for John’s tastes. Nick held out his good hand to the man, who took it awkwardly with his left hand. “I appreciate the save, but I have to ask why you went out of your way to save an old private eye?” 

“I’m looking for someone,” the man admitted, “and it doesn’t seem there are many detectives left in the world I can turn to.” Nick laughed. 

“We’re a dying breed,” He admitted. “But thanks to you it looks like I’m going to be stickin’ around for a little while longer - thanks again, really.”

The man seemed to awkwardly accept Nick’s gratitude. Nick felt a bit uncomfortable with the situation himself, but that feeling was almost nothing in comparison to the overwhelming relief of being out of prison. 

“I’m Nate, by the way,” Nate said eventually.

“Nick Valentine, but you already knew that,” Nick said. “I look forward to hearin’ all about your case, but I’m going to need a couple of days to regroup. All of my files were in Diamond City, and I bet by now most of them have been shredded or requisitioned by security.” He got a pair of concerned looks from the other two men in the room; it took Nick a moment to realize they were reacting to his enthusiasm. Not many people would be so eager to get back to work after a rough week like Nick's, but damn if the idea of a true missing person case wasn't just what he needed to get back to feelin' like his old self. He was a creature of habit - or at least a machine of routine.  

“I understand, take your time,” Nate said. “I’ll be staying in Goodneighbor for a while, I think.” Nate glanced over at Hancock, who winked without subtly, confirming Nate’s suspicions that they were a couple. 

“In the meantime, mind getting me back up to speed on just what the hell happened while I was out?” Nick said, taking a seat on the couch opposite his old and new friends. “Last I recall I was in Diamond City slammer listening to our dear ex-mayor rant about ‘fairness’ and ‘democracy.’ I think it’s the first time I ever heard McDonough care about either of those things.”

Hancock made a face that Nick couldn’t quite interpret when he mentioned his brother, but thankfully Nate took the reins and caught Nick up on what happened. Bobbi’s foiled plan, Hancock and Nate’s rescue, and ending with the conversation between the courser and the so-called McDonough.

“Christ, John,” Nick said, pulling the borrowed cigarette from between his teeth. “So he really was a synth. All this time and we never noticed… How are you holdin’ up?” Nick eyed Hancock. Sure, he and his brother hadn’t been close in… well ever, really - but they were still the only living relatives each other had. 

Hancock shrugged. 

“The guy’s been dead to me since I was twelve, I’m fine,” He lied. To his credit, Hancock seemed to really believe he didn’t care about McDonough. 

“So what happened to the replica?” Nick asked. “You two didn’t just leave him there?”

“Of course not,” Nate looked horrified. Hancock shrugged. 

“Nate here’s a softy - If I shot the bastard in the back he would have given me such an earful, and not in the hot way,” Hancock teased. Nate rolled his eyes and Nick smiled. Hancock caught a good one this time; he had a tendency to hook up with people who enabled some of his worst habits, it was good to see Hancock with someone who appealed to his better nature. And later down the line, Nick was sure Hancock would be glad he didn’t let the synth-replica of his brother die, even if he feigned indifference. 

“So where is he now?” Nick asked. 

“Who knows,” Hancock said. “Probably mooching off some small settlement or being chased down by coursers. Not my fuckin’ problem.” 

Nate gave a shrug. “He slipped off while we were heading back through the tunnels. I think he was worried Hancock was going to strangle him while I wasn’t looking.”

“A valid concern,” Hancock noted. 

“I still can’t believe you got Bobbi No-Nose to go along with all this,” Nick said. “She’s normally a lot more careful than to let a plan slip like that.”

“It was a lucky coincidence, I think,” Nate said. “Bobbi tried to hire me for the job and I got her to let on a lot more than she probably thought was necessary, then later we were at the Third Rail and this woman named Ellie - I think she’s your secretary, right? - anyways she comes up and-”

Nick stopped processing what Nate is saying as soon as he heard the name. How the hell had he forgotten about Ellie? He’d been so caught up in getting caught up he hadn’t even thought about his poor secretary. Did she know about the verdict? Did she know he was safe now?

“Speaking of Ellie,” Nick said, accidentally interrupting Nate, “where is the doll? I’d like to let our little lady know I’m alright.”

“We couldn’t find her before we left,” Hancock admitted, “but if I were you I’d try the Third Rail. She’s been hangin’ out there pretty frequently. If not there, try the Rexford.”

“Thanks, John,” Nick said, standing up. “I better go straighten things out with her real quick. I’ll swing by tomorrow and finish catching up.”

“Sure thing, Nick,” Hancock said with a wave. Nick caught Nate leaning over to whisper as he headed out the door. Nate kept his voice down respectfully, but being a synth meant that Nick could turn his auditory up so he could catch what was being said.

“So him and Ellie…?”

---

When Nick first met Ellie, she was in her early twenties. She had cropped brunette hair, bright red lipstick, and a scar on her thigh where she’d had a tattoo recently removed. She had walked into his office shortly after moving to Diamond City and demanded to know why Nick didn’t have anyone working his front desk. After about twenty minutes Nick realized she wasn’t complaining about lack of service but rather was offering herself the position. She was good at hiding it, but Ellie was desperate after leaving Goodneighbor - more so than Nick knew at the time. Nick never made much in the way of caps - a combination of his own generosity and the city’s reluctance to hire a synth - but he had a bedroom he never used and enough caps to feed someone else since he didn’t need to eat. Besides, having someone to hold down the fort while he was out would be nice. 

Nick had expected the arrangement to last a year or two before his sweet secretary caught on to how bad her reputation would suffer by being so closely associated with Nick, but fifteen years later and she hadn’t once mentioned the idea of quitting. Nick was glad for it, he’d gotten used to having her around in more ways than was purely professional. Before her, coming home after a case was a quiet and bleak affair. He would sit down, pour himself a drink if he had it, and turn on the radio or read quietly to himself. Hearing Ellie hum along just barely in time with the music somehow brightened the whole room. Even on the nights where they weren’t up to discussing their thoughts, the ambiance of Ellie’s presence filled up the entire house. Sounds of her cooking, flipping pages in a book, turning in her sheets upstairs; it stirred up a longing in Nick that came pre-programmed in him, inherited from a dead man who had hoped to live a life like this with a girl named Jenny. 

Despite everything, Nick recognized Ellie as soon as he descended the stairs into the Third Rail. Ellie had to brush her hair twice a day to keep it from frizzing - Nick saw the frayed mop of brunette curls hanging in a tangled mess over an almost empty glass at the bar. Her blazer sagged on one shoulder, her skirt was stained with mud that splattered up her unshaved legs. Nick smiled sadly as soon as he saw her - his sweet Ellie.

Her back was to him, making Ellie the only one oblivious to Nick’s presence. As he descended the final stair and made his way to Ellie he was met with every eye in the bar on him. Magnolia trailed in her song, the music still playing sans vocals. The stares would have made Nick uncomfortable if he paid any mind to it; his attention was wholly on the back of Ellie’s head. 

Ellie was drunk. A bad habit of her own Nick could never get her to kick. She didn’t notice or care that the bar had gone silent. Nick could just have easily been a deathclaw sneaking up behind her and she would be none the wiser. As Nick got closer he saw the haze in her eyes as she stared sightlessly out across the counter. Nick came up beside her, propping himself up against the bar on an elbow.  

“Can I buy you a drink, doll?” He said gently. Ellie turned her head sluggishly, bloodshot eyes focusing, and unfocusing for a long while before she recognized him. How on earth she could mistake his ugly mug for anyone else's was a mystery Nick couldn't solve if he wanted to. When she finally realized who it was standing next to her, Nick thought her eyes might just pop out of her skull. She let out a choked sob, hand flying up to her mouth as she stared in bewilderment at the still-living dead man. 

“Nick…” She whispered, stunned still. “Nick… you’re really- you’re-” She cut off in a sob and fell forward. Worried she was fainting, Nick caught Ellie as she flew off the barstool and into his arms. She wrapped herself around him and wailed, burying her face into his trench coat. Nick chuckled, relieved. Hell, it was a good thing he couldn’t cry because he might have joined her himself.

“That’s right, Doll, everything’s fine,” he comforted, brushing his fingers through her hair and getting stuck in the tangles. Ellie jerked her head up, pulling loose a handful of the strands. It had to hurt, but she didn’t react at all. Instead, she reached up with both hands to clasp Nick’s cheeks and pull his face down onto hers so she could kiss him properly. 

The bar cheered, and if Nick had had blood he would have been blushing. He wondered if it was possible for literal sparks to fly with him, because for a moment he was certain that was what was happening. Despite his processor's struggle to keep up, he didn’t break away from the kiss. He tuned out the whoops and applause and let Ellie cling to him. He could feel her tears press against his face as she adjusted to deepen the kiss. His kind of synth wasn’t exactly built to be good kissers; the inside of his mouth was mostly metal with some synthetic skin there to pad out his tongue and throat. None of that bothered Ellie, evidently. 

When the kiss ended Ellie stepped back, hiccuping and staggering to stand up straight. Nick kept an arm around her so she wouldn’t fall right down on the ground. Without Nick in front of her, Ellie clung to herself and continued to cry. Pulling off his coat and draping it over her shoulders, Nick ushered Ellie towards the stairs.

“Come on, kid,” He said. “Let’s get you to bed. We can catch up in the morning.” 

Nick was still being hollered at and congratulated by the spectator drunks at the bar as he led Ellie back up the stairs. As they made it out the door Nick heard Magnolia start up another song, her cover of Dear Hearts and Gentle People . Ellie wrapped both arms around his as they walked into the streets of Goodneighbor and leaned her whole weight into his side. Nick had a feeling it wasn’t just because of the liquor. Feeling emboldened by cheating death and receiving a kiss from a pretty lady, Nick leaned over and pressed his lips to the top of Ellie’s head. 

“I missed you, doll,” Nick said. 

“I missed you too,” Ellie sniffed. “I- I thought they killed you, Nick.” 

“The guards decided to let me off on good behavior,” Nick teased. “Thought it might have had something to do with a conversation you had with Hancock and his new flame. Seems like you inspired one hell of a plan out of them.”

Ellie hiccuped and brought a hand up to wipe her eye. “I thought- they said they weren’t going to-”

“They did, everything’s fine now, Ellie.” Except for the fact that they were both homeless and everything they’d ever owned was likely property of the Diamond City guard now. Problems for tomorrow. 

“Nick, don’t you ever make me leave you again, you hear me?” Ellie said, suddenly sounding stern. It was a far cry from her usual authoritative tone, but pretty good for someone still in the process of bawling their eyes out. “I don’t care if it’s the end of the world, I won’t let you go anywhere I can’t get to.” 

Nick chuckled. “I don’t think I’m going to be leaving Goodneighbor for a while, doll,” he said. “At least not until the heat dies down.”

“I’m serious, Nick,” Ellie said. 

“I know, doll,” He said, giving her arm a squeeze. “I promise, I won’t scare you like that again.” 

“Okay,” Ellie staggered while she walked, relying on Nick for support as she was half carried to the Rexford in her stupor. “I feel like this is all a dream, Nick.” She said as Nick brought her to her room. She practically collapsed on the bed when Nick let her go. He helped her take off her shoes and socks as she clutched a pillow to her chest. “I don’t want to wake up and you not be here.”

“That’s not gonna happen, doll,” Nick said, pulling a chair up so he could sit by the side of the bed. He let his fingers trail gently through her hair again, careful of the tangled curls. “I’ll stay right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Promise?” Ellie whimpered. 

“Promise,” Nick said. 

And then Ellie was asleep, having exhausted her last reserves of energy. True to his word, Nick stayed exactly where he was for the next twelve hours, never leaving Ellie’s side. 

---

Nick Valentine’s new office in the State House basement was a bit cramped, but after two weeks of moving things around, he’d finally made enough room for a client chair on the opposite side of his desk. 

“So you’re telling me your son was taken by a man you’d never met to an unknown location anywhere between two months and two hundred years ago?” Nick clarified. “Well, I’ve done cases with less.” Not many, and none successfully, but he had done them. It was hard for Nick when people came to him in tough situations like this, he rarely found the heart to turn them away, even when there was no hope. The worst part was giving them the final report that didn't include a happy ending, or any ending at all. Most people who'd lost someone came to the detective's office for closure more than anything, and that was something that Nick couldn't guarantee, no matter how good he claimed to be. At least Nate seemed to be realistic about his odds.

“I know it’s a long shot,” Nate said grimly, hands folded politely in his lap. “I’ve come to terms with the fact that I may never find him, but I can’t give up without even trying.”

“Shaun’s a lucky kid to have a father like you,” Nick said, finishing up his notes. “A lot of people in your position would have called it quits by now.”

Nate shook his head. “I won’t abandon him. If there’s even the slightest chance he’s still alive I’m going to find him.”

Nick smiled. Over the past few weeks he and come to really enjoy Nate’s company. Besides saving Nick’s life, Nate had helped him clear out a space in Hancock’s basement for him and Ellie to live and work out of. He was a reserved man who had his fair share of skeletons he’d like to keep tucked away in his closet, but underneath it all, he was good to his core. And as a bonus, it was having a positive effect on Hancock as well. The two were constantly in-and-out of Goodneighbor on missions to lend a hand around the Commonwealth. Nick had been worried about John ever since he left Diamond City, and even though he had risen up to be the new mayor of Goodneighbor, Nick had still wondered how the man was holding up after all this time. It was good to see him smiling more and huffing less; Nick missed the days when he saw John happy without needing chems to make it happen. 

“I believe our investigation is going to have to begin in Diamond City, unfortunately,” Ellie said from behind Nick. “Kellogg may be long gone, but his house was never reclaimed by the city, so his stuff is likely still there.” 

“Right,” Nick said. “We’re lucky Piper was able to save most of the old case files when security stormed our old place, this would be a hell of a lot harder without them.” 

As soon as Diamond City opened the gates back up Piper practically sprinted to Goodneighbor to investigate rumors that Nick was still alive after his and the mayor's little disappearing act. Nick had had two too many dames cry on his shoulder on his behalf, but he sat it out for her and reminded her that what happened wasn’t her fault and that if she insisted on feeling guilty about the whole thing he’d be cross with her. After that she made several trips to get Nick and Ellie’s stuff back to them; she and Danny had convinced security to dump all of the “evidence” after the trial was over so it was only a matter of dusting glass shards off his spare coat. 

“I don’t mind taking things from here,” Nate said. “I’ll bring back anything I find while I’m in the city.”

“Take Piper with you when you search the house,” Nick said. “She’s had my back on a handful of cases before, and she’s a pretty good slooth when she wants to be. Don't get to be a great journalist without a little bit of the detective's life slipping in around the edges.”

Nate nodded. “I appreciate it.” Nick could tell that who Nate really wanted to take with him was Hancock, but for obvious reasons that was out of the question as well. Diamond City had settled down thanks in part to Piper rallying the people of the city together and snapping some sense into them, but the peace was tumultuous, at best. They were still down a mayor and in a state of panic now that there was confirmation via Piper’s second hand telling of Nick’s account that McDonough had, in fact, been a synth. Nick still hadn’t received an official pardon from the city, but by now everyone there knew where to find him and he hadn’t heard a peep about bringing him back in for a re-trial, so Nick felt it was safe to assume the city was trying its best to pretend the whole thing never happened. 

Still, Nick was going to steer clear of that side of Boston for a while. 

Nate shook his hand and Nick told him to take care one more time. “I’d hate to see what would happen to Hancock if you got yourself hurt out there.” When Nate disappeared from the office Nick leaned back in his chair. He rubbed his temple with fingers. “Christ, I can tell this case is going to be a rough one.”

“Hopefully Nate will find something in Kellogg’s house that leads him right to where the bastard is keeping his son,” Ellie said. “The Commonwealth has enough tragedy as it is without adding more orphans to the streets.” 

Nick made a noise of agreement. “The Institute sure has a way of creating disasters for just about everyone who sets foot in their territory.”

“Well, I can think of at least one thing they made that wasn’t a disaster,” Ellie said, adoration and teasing mixed perfectly in her voice. Her hand was on his shoulder and she leaned down to peck Nick on the cheek. He laughed and turned his face so he could catch her mouth before she pulled away.

“You sure do know how to make an old synth feel appreciated, El,” He said. Ellie gave him a sultry wink before turning around to re-file Kellogg’s case in their new cabinets. 

“Just doing my job, boss,” She said.

With that, the room settled down into a comfortable ambiance. The radio played soft classic rock tunes Nick recalled from two hundred years ago spliced with the sound of Ellie sorting through their filing cabinet and humming along. Nick looked back over his rough notes from his interview with Nate and began copying them over to a more organized copy. Nick had heard a lot of crazy stories in his time as a detective, but Nate’s had to be up there. If it weren’t for the pip-boy and the vault suit Nick wouldn’t have believed a word of it, but Nate didn’t strike him as a liar, nor as delusional. 

Nick had a feeling this was far from the last he’d seen of Nate. Nick owed the man far more than what he could give on this case alone. He hoped one day he’d have the chance to pay him back in full for all he’d done for him. 

In the meantime, Nick had an office to set up, cases to file, and an Ellie to treat to dinner and drinks tonight. Nick couldn’t help but smile to himself, comfortable in his own office again with Ellie half-singing along to the radio. It wasn’t exactly the same as before, but it was getting there, certainly more than what Nick had dared hope since the day he was dragged from his office by security.

Nick sighed contentedly and scribbled out his notes, happy to be alive