Work Text:
Nick Valentine is… something.
Nick sits up on his bed. It was summer, so the fans were kicked on at their highest setting. Nick slept on the top floor, slightly cracking the door for more air. He has been staring at the blank metal wall for what felt like hours. He is a synth, yes, but something else entirely. He has a personality. He can dream, he can want, he can loathe and hate, and while he does not need to, he can smoke.
So why must people look at him as if he were a rogue, as if he was one of them? As if he was nothing more than and “tin for brains” robot, hellbent on destroying their life and taking their loved ones? The fear of him has only helped a few times when he was new. But as the new wave of synths began rolling out, people learned more about the capabilities of synths. Now instead of being curious and frightful, there was only hate.
The wasteland is an awful place.
Nick takes his rusted metal arm and caresses it down his face, tracing the edge of his rubbery skin. He can hear the clicks and whirs of his inner mechanisms, careful not to touch any of them. It was already hell trying to keep up with maintenance. He closes his eyes and imagines his past. How it felt to be human. He can feel the benches he’s sitting on. He can taste the warm air and can feel it on his skin again. The sun is bright, warm, and forgiving. He turns to find Jennifer by his side, hair blowing gracefully in the air.
She looked… wonderful.
He can feel Jennifer caressing his face again. She speaks something into the air, smiling. Nick looks back at her, only to find her going limp. He grabbed her, holding on to her, calling out her name. He’s now in the street, lying in a dark alleyway. He can hear someone crying, tears rolling down his cheek.
Nick snapped out of his daydream, frazzled. There was a glow of orange from the cracked door. If he still had skin, he would have been sweating. He sighs and parts away, hastily putting on his jacket and crumpled fedora.
The wasteland is a terrible place. He needed a distraction.
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Nick needed to find passion. Yes, he had a job of being a detective, but he lacked fulfillment in the joys of life. He needed to find the simple joys of the wasteland.
Sun peeked through his door, filling the room with a bright light and a warm breeze. Nick sat at his office desk feeling heavy. He needed to start from his home and find the simple joys of Diamond City. Swiping paper and ink pens, he opened his daily issue of Publick Occurrences. He had asked Ellie the night before to find the case files for missing people. Right on cue, Ellie barged into Nicks office, holding a large manilla folder, stuffed with a stack of papers.
“Here are the files you ordered Mr. Valentine.” Ellie said, settling down the papers.
“This is perfect, thank you Ellie” Nick said grabbing them, flipping through them. He has been on the same case for a few weeks now, maybe he just needed to switch gears. He notices Ellie’s eyes seem to be drooping. “You seem a bit tired, are you good?”
“I am fine, don’t worry. I just need a cup of coffee.” She said. She quickly left, coming back with a whistling kettle, spoon, and a mug filled with crushed coffee beans. Ellie pours some hot water and sugar in the mug, mixing it with a bent spoon.
Ellie sips her cup of coffee, deeply inhaling. Warmth spreads everywhere across her skin. This sense of bliss, which was so rare in a land of savagery and hatred, was one of the longest she has ever felt.
Nick envied Ellie a bit. He wondered how it felt to taste again. He could feel heat throughout his body, but he could never taste the bitterness and pure happiness of a hot coffee after a long night. He can’t truly feel tired, so the bliss of a night rest continuously escapes him, and he doesn’t need to eat to energize. He can feel sensations, but nothing that made him human.
Nick closed the door to his office. He needed some fresh air.
Nick has had his fair share of visits to Good Neighbor. Occasionally, he went to look for a missing person and they would end up here. Other times, he had ran into the charming mayor, often giving grand speeches from the balcony, high off jet. It was impressive he wasn’t dead from overdose yet.
Today though, he found himself sitting with the mayor of good neighbor, Hancock. Hancock had invited him to one of his favorite shows at the Third Rail Bar. Hancock was a pretty chill guy. He had his fair share of wasteland tragedies, but he has kept his spirits high. If anyone knew how to find simple joys in life it would be him.
“If you’re looking for a slice of heaven in this wasteland, you are looking at the gates,” Hancock says point to the red dim lighted sign.
“I know that you have good entertainment Hancock, if you didn’t, I don’t think Good Neighbor would let you get away with it.” Nick said walking inside down the stairs. He hears low music and chattering slowly fills the air.
Hancock and nick sat down at a table a few feet from the bar. Nick would have picked a table closer to the door in case things got seedy but decided to pick a table near the edge of the room, in the perfect viewing area of the stage. He was here to see entertainment.
“I’m telling you Nick. You’ve heard anything like this before. Absolutely breathtaking.” Hancock smiled, downing a bottle of ale.
Nick responded with a quiet hum.
The lights dimmed into a dark blue, leaving only a spotlight onto the stage. Music filled the room, and the crowd hushed. Magnolia stood in the corner singing, the crowd drawn to her as if she were a siren. She steps off the stage and walks around the tables, swaying and dancing as if she were weightless. Hancock cheered from the tables, drank another bottle, and hummed along quietly to the songs.
Nick studies the room. He enjoys the music and the atmosphere, but doesn’t feel fulfilled, only con. It felt as if he was biting into a cloud. Soft, sweet, but empty. He envies Hancock a bit, how he can just be around people. How he can give speeches, leaving the city hanging on to his every word. He was respected, feared, but most importantly loved. Even if it is a crime-ridden city, it’s a city of misfits all counting on him to keep it moderately peaceful.
The crowd cheered as the song came to an end. Some shout for encore. Magnolia waves her hand and sits at the far end of the bar, drinking in hand. No wonder Magnolia was one of the top acts in Good Neighbor.
Nick got up to leave his table, walking towards the stairs.
“Nick wait! Aren’t you staying for the second set?” Hancock called out to him, slightly buzzed.
“Sorry Hancock but my schedules full again. I have to get back to work” he says trudging up the stairs. He continues his journey back to Diamond City, determined to find joy in his life.
The wasteland is an awful but interesting place.
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Nick had taken a break from his detective work. After taking a trip to the Colonial Taphouse and earning a glare from the various drunk patrons, he decided to cut his trip short and take a smoke break. Its odd, despite not being able to get addicted, smoking was a reflexive action. Lighting his cigarette, he looked outward to the city.
“Hey.” Said a voice beside him. It was Piper.
“Hey Piper, what are you doing here?” Nick asked.
“Enjoying the view. The city looks so beautiful from up here” she says, sighing wistfully. Her eyes sparkled looking down at the city. “What about you? You don’t drink… unless I missed a crucial update.”
He rolled his eyes. “I needed to take a break and clear my mind.” Nick said, still looking down at the city. The city’s bright lights are normally blinding, but today they seem inviting. They both watched the area silently. After a while, Piper got up from leaning turning to the stairs, before momentarily pausing. She fishes out a letter from her coat pocket and hands it to Nick.
“Before I leave, Blue invited you to a party.” she says, handing him a small note. “Come to the home plate if you have the time tomorrow, me and Hancock were invited, along with a few others.”
Nick grabbed the note. A party? Here? The details were vague, but the party included free food and drinks, and the invitation extended to all of the Sole Survivor’s personal companions. Why him then? He can’t eat or drink, so why bother even making an invitation for him.
Only one way to find out.
Nick had been invited by the Sole Survivor for a small dinner party. He followed the directions to the home plate, where he was greeted by Sole. Opening the door, he found a large table filled with food and drinks, surrounded by several chairs. The food wasn’t particularly fancy, it was warm deviled eggs, spam, and Fancy Lad Cakes, served with Insta-Mash and tatos. Each seat had a can of purified water, except one. That must be his seat.
“Oh, hey Nick, was wondering when you were going to show up.” Piper said cheerfully. “Come, have a seat, I’m sitting next to you.”
Taking his seat next to Piper, he looks around. Codsworth was serving up the purified water and handling setting up the table, keeping it in an orderly fashion. Macready and Sole talked outside, greeting the other companions coming in. Hancock and Cait walked in, chatting about fighting styles. They both notice and waved at him and continue their talk on how efficient a spiked baseball bat was for combat. Dogmeat licked his hand and wagged his tail, earning a few head scratches from Nick, and scampered off, finding his seat underneath the table.
Nick smiled. He had found the thing he was missing. His simple joy.
The wasteland was an interesting place.