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Chapter Text

   A loud rumble shook the ground beneath his feet as he watched the woman in front of him freeze up. Her legs gave out and she would have fallen onto the hard stone if Nick hadn't caught her. Damnit, he thought. Second time since we've come in here.

  She'd nearly collapsed the first time, when she'd pushed open a door. Though the episode had lasted only about twenty seconds, it had led her to walk directly into a chamber full of feral ghouls. A vision, she'd said. Miners working. They were the ghouls, Nick.

   As soon as we finish off these raiders, we're leaving.

   Nick couldn't agree more, especially now as he held her, watching her eyelids flutter. Her breathing sped up, as did her heart rate. Like she was having a nightmare.

   He'd watched her walk, in a daze down a passageway, into yet another chamber full of feral ghouls. They'd opened fire and killed them off quickly.

   And now he sat, cradling his semiconscious partner, next to the most ominous body of water he'd ever encountered, surrounded by dead ghouls. The occasional rumble shook dust from the ceiling.

   If I got chills, this'd be the place to give 'em.

   Speaking of cold... he untied his coat's belt and tucked the fabric around her, pulling her up into his chest. He could see her breath condense in the air now. It was getting colder the longer they were in there. He didn't like being in the mine, it made his synthetic flesh crawl, as though he were being watched from all angles. He hadn't thought his skin could crawl.

   With a sudden gasp, the General woke up. Her eyes rolled around wildly before they focused on Nick's, only inches away. "Nick," She croaked. "Those ghouls." She wrapped her arms around him, under his coat. Her arms were covered in goosebumps. "Those ghouls were some of the people sent to Station 4. There were a bunch of people in here, kneeling down. There was some guy at an altar. They were sacrifices for... I don't know, Nick, oh god." She shuddered and tucked her head under his chin.

   "It's all right, sweetheart. I'm here."

   Nick rubbed her back with one hand until she stopped shivering. The other hand dug around in the small pack he'd slung off her when she fell. He removed some cans of water. It was a few minutes until she decided she could stand, and she did so shakily with Nick's assistance. Her eyes locked onto the well before them, stepping forward to grip the rusted remains of a barrier railing. "Nick?"

  "Yeah?"

   "Something down there is calling to me."

   The synth froze, wondering exactly what was in this mine. Whatever it was had been claiming lives and minds long before the war. Then again, he didn't really want to know what unearthly being lived here. "Are you sure? That water looks awfully deep and full of rads." He handed her one of the cans he'd taken from her bag. "Drink up. You'll need some strength if you're going down there."

   He didn't want her to swim down into that dark pit. Not at all. But something told him she'd be fine. Better than fine.

   He also didn't like this strange not-voice assuring him of his partner's safety.

...

   She'd been under the water for a panic-inducing amount of time, when Nick saw her form struggling to the surface. He rushed into the water, splashing onto the shelf that edged the well. No wonder she couldn't get out of there, he realized. The mesh bag she'd brought with her held a pair of mini nukes and what looked like a ragged sword. Nick grabbed under her arms and hauled her out of the frigid water. She shivered violently as he handed her a threadbare towel to dry off with. She wrapped herself in it as he started handing her clothes over.

   When she'd redressed and her shudders had dwindled, he asked about the well. "What was down there?"

   She gave herself a moment to put her thoughts together. "The shrine was down there. There was a statue's face, but... I couldn't look at it. Like it was phasing in and out of existence." 

   "And the sword?" 

   "It was on the altar. It was down there, in a room. The nukes were on either side of it. I don't understand though. The altar is down there, but I saw it up here. Where'd the well come from? How did the altar get down there? And the sword has a name, Nick. It's called Kremvh's Tooth. I don't know how I know that." She looked disturbed, and Nick knew they had to get out of here while they still could.

   And then they heard a noise.

   The General whipped her head around, following the sound to the rocks opposite the well, furthest from the entrance. Some loose dirt hissed down from an opening being hastily covered up from the inside.

   "Hey! Who's there!" She called, gripping the newfound blade. Nick drew his pistol. Someone hiding in a false wall in a haunted mine? What else could go on down here in this hellscape?

   They approached stealthily, the General taking point, as rubble was shed from the rapidly widening hole. Now that they were up close, they could see that the debris cover was recent, the stones not matching the surrounding wall. They could hear a voice inside, muttering. She used the hooked section of the sword to yank the loose rocks from the opening. The voice started chattering louder, more urgently. Nick grew anxious.

   Peeping into the space beyond, the General could see a single lantern illuminating a shrine built from wooden boards. Torn fabric was draped over the corners, picture frames dotted the flat surfaces, and a bloody skeleton was laid out in front of it. She waved Nick forward as she stepped carefully through over the rubble. The source of the voice was still in here. Somewhere.

   Nick faced the shrine, inspecting it, trying to figure out who or what it was supposed to be worshiping. He guessed it was the same thing that had driven people insane through the rest of this god-forsaken pit. The skeleton had bits of meat still stuck to the bone, and the ligaments had been left intact. He'd crouched down to get a closer look at the knife marks on the skull when he caught a burst of movement from the corner of his eye.

   "Nick, move!" The General shouted as she swung the blade at the crazed raider. He screeched as he flailed his arms around wildly. She buried it in his neck and Nick watched as something fell from his hands. It looked like a grenade.

   Nick lunged and grabbed the General, shoving her to the ground under him, he couldn't get her through the entrance in time.

   A blast of green light and intense heat washed over them, and Nick felt himself being washed from his body, like suds down a drain.

   Oh.

Chapter Text

   Nick didn't wake up fully, he just became aware of the sensation of movement. What little orientation he could discern told him he was being carried. Someone was carrying him and running. He didn't question anymore, the heavy darkness pulled him back down.

   Nick woke again, lying propped up, and something was very wrong. Something had happened to him. His body was all wrong. His chest stung, and his mouth and nose felt raw. This is it, he thinks, my sensors are fried for good. 

   He opened his eyes and the sensation of wrongness intensified. Even his optics had been affected, everything blurry and too bright, despite being in a shuttered room. The slog, he realized as his eyes focused on the tiled wall. They'd gone to Dunwich Borers from here, and had left Hancock to help the settlers organize trade routes with the provisioners. 

   He heard someone approaching, the door in the partition creaked open, and Hancock stepped in, looking... very anxious. Last time Nick had seen that look on him, the General had nearly been incinerated. That thought must have registered on his face, because Hancock quickly threw his hands up. "No, no! She's fine, Nick. But you're both kinda... uh..." He leaned backwards to confer with someone standing outside the doorway. Their conversation was almost soundless, and ended with Hancock grabbing the other person and dragging them in.

   It was himself. 

   "Stay calm, Nicky," the ghoul warned. "Something happened in that mine." 

   Only then does Nick look down at himself in the bed. His body is too small, he realizes, and he holds one of his hands up for inspection. Thin, freckled, with a small gray graphite mark on the palm. 

   This is the General's body, he thought, noticing his breathing had approached panic. He tried to calm down, staring at the pale hand that now apparently belonged to him. It took a couple of minutes, but Nick managed to control his breathing, something he'd never had to do before.

   "What the hell happened?" He said, finally looking at the pair before him. He almost didn't make it through the sentence, startled by the voice he now had. He made eye contact with, well, the General. It certainly was disconcerting, seeing himself across the room. Her hands were buried in her coat pockets, looking entirely sheepish.

   "We got switched, Nick. Dunno how, but we did." She replied quietly.

   Now that was weird. Her words, from his mouth. 

   "You also kind of crushed yourself."

   "What?"

   "When you tackled me, you kinda..." She freed her hands from the confines of the pockets to wave them about vaguely. "Squished me, but now you're the one who has to deal with the bruises."

   "Oh." That explained the pains in his chest, made worse by his panicked reaction. "How long was I out?"

   "About fifteen hours. I ran all the way back here because I thought you'd punctured a lung. Turns out one of us bit the inside of my cheek. And you slammed my nose into the ground. I panicked." The General scooted past the unusually silent Hancock, and sat on the edge of the bed. "Are you feeling alright?"

   "Yes, but what are we going to do? I don't think we should stay like this forever, not if we wanna reunite you with your boy."

  Hancock gave a quiet chuckle at the image, little Shaun with his synth mother and detective father. What a christmas card that would make.

   "I was thinking we either go back down there in the next few days, or we head back to Sanctuary and prank the hell out of everyone." 

   "No."

   Hancock giggled.

...

   Nick held up the worn flannel shirt. He chewed absentmindedly on bubblegum, which was far sweeter than old Nick's memories led him to believe. He examined the clothing, it had been altered down several sizes for the General; now he understood her problem finding clothes, especially nowadays. It was the width; she was still worryingly thin despite the lean muscle. A regular shirt was like wearing a small tent. There wasn't much that could be done about the pants until they got to either Diamond City or a settlement with a resident seamster. He walked out into the common room, now fully dressed and somewhat less achy, thanks to the stimpack the General had brought in.

   The ghoul didn't seem too disturbed by the situation. Probably because of the people involved. One prototype synth who was essentially an old noir detective and a 236-year-old vault-dweller who'd spent a good deal of that time frozen. Things were already weird, let alone the fact that Hancock himself had stolen the identity of an ancient founding father.

   Hancock had recounted, while leaning against the doorway of the small room, the General's arrival the previous night. He'd nearly had a goddamn heart attack, watching what appeared to be his friend carrying his unconscious girlfriend into the building. He'd dropped his cigarette and nearly set one of the couches on fire as he rushed over. Holly and one of the other workers with medical training had taken the General into one of the bunk rooms. He'd nearly had another heart attack when 'Nick' tried to explain what had happened, and had almost immediately fallen over from a badly damaged servo. And an actuator. It had taken Arlen most of the morning to repair them while the General recalled the events in the mine. 

   Nick joined the General and Hancock on the couch facing the tarberry pool. He sat between them, and realized how much taller he was than the General. She was eye-level with his chin, but now he realized that his body seemed to loom over him and Hancock. Then he realized he was the same height as the ghoul now, too.

   "We'll have to take a day for you to heal up. I bet raiders are already moving into the quarry," The General said as soon as he settled in.

   "Yeah, that thing in the mine that was messing with your head probably lures them in." Hancock had been hearing rumors about the place for years, but now he knew the truth was far worse than just mad raiders.

   "But what about the last raider?" Nick interjected. "He had that thing in his hands, it packed a punch like a plasma grenade. It's likely what mixed our brains up."

   "About that," The General said, almost hesitantly. "I grabbed it before running out. I think it's an artifact from the original shrine." She stuck her hand into one of her coat's inner pockets, still a little clumsy with Nick's larger body. Her hand reemerged cupping a strange metallic sphere. 

   It's surface was grooved, with small colorless circles between each one. It didn't seem to catch the light, and Hancock didn't seem to be able to look at it. 

   The General, of course, noticed instantly. "You okay, John?"

   "Hurts," He mumbled and averted his eyes again. 

   "Odd..." Nick voiced his thoughts. "We can look at it just fine, but you can't..." He absentmindedly lifted a hand to cup his chin between thumb and hand, but surprised himself with a sharp thumbnail to the throat. Oh. Right. 

   "Here, Nick, see if it talks to you." She handed it over to him, but he simply stared incredulously at the sphere in her hand.

   "Talks?" 

   "Yeah, if I hold it too long, it starts making noise and I can only hear it as long as I'm touching it."

   "Sounds like bad news to me," Nick grumbled, but still took the object. 

   Hancock grinned and shook his head. "Nicky, you're adorable."

   Nick responded with a feigned frown, causing Hancock to snicker. The General snorted.

   The artifact hummed contently in his hand and he nearly dropped it. "That what you were talking about?"

   "Just about. Here, I'll put it in my pack so it doesn't try to do any more freaky shit."

...

   They spent a lazy day around the Slog, neither Hancock or the General allowing Nick to do much of anything, lest he hurt himself even more. While they helped with various chores, Nick figured out why none of the shelves in the General's house were very high. 

   Nick had also been chewing his way through the General's stash of bubblegum, the mental itch for a cigarette still with him. He couldn't exactly smoke in this situation, so he offered a substitute to his oral fixation. Hancock had tried handing him mentats, but had withdrawn the offer at the disappointed dad/cop face he got in return.

   His face had stopped hurting sometime in the afternoon, but the bruised ribs took even longer to fade. He was still thankful it hadn't been an actual grenade. They'd both be in various states of dead instead of occupying each other's bodies. A much stranger option, but still better than splattered all over a cave.

   The trio ended up back on the couch, in the same order, but covered by several blankets. Nick was sandwiched between them, the General lying back with him tucked into her chest. Hancock draped himself over both of them. 

   Hancock fell asleep almost as soon as he got comfortable. Which left Nick in a tangle of limbs, from which there was no hope of escape. That had probably been their plan the whole time.

   "Nick?" The General whispered beside him.

   He hummed in response, unable to summon the energy to speak. It was strange, he'd only ever had second-hand memories of such simple things. Like being warm and sleepy.

   "I thought you were dead back there, you self-sacrificing bastard." 

   "Sorry, sweetheart."

   "But thank you." She pressed a kiss to his temple. "Just don't do it again."

   "Got it," He murmured, on the edge of sleep.

   She freed her arms to wrap them around him. "I'm not really in the mood to lose anyone else any time soon."

Chapter Text

   Nick slowly opened his eyes in confusion. He'd been dreaming, not just powering down and replaying mixed-up memories, both his and old Nick's. He tried to hold onto the vivid images, but they slipped away as he woke. He did, however, remember the General was there with him, but he couldn't remember much else. Something about a car chase?

   The horizon was only just beginning to glow, but he could hear the residents of the Slog already up and about. They were moving through the common room as quietly as possible. He lay still, trying to put his thoughts together.

   He was also sweating, which he found an explanation for in the fact that he had a very warm ghoul wrapped around him. The General was nowhere in sight to help free him. She'd somehow slipped out of the pile during the night. Nick figured she was out helping Wiseman and Jones set up more turrets behind the cornfield. That fence needed mending, too, and if Nick didn't escape the sleeping ghoul's embrace soon, they'd be trapped here for a week trying to outpace the settlement's chores. He sometimes thought she was too altruistic for her own good, but then he'd banish the idea, since the Commonwealth needed more like her. 

   How are we gonna explain this to the gang if we can't fix it? Danse'll have a conniption fit, and she'll never be able to use the Brotherhood's resources again. And being the General?

   Before Nick could get lost in the potential problems of their situation, Hancock made a sleepy noise, shifted, and his grip loosened. He quickly slid off the couch, landing quietly on his back on the threadbare carpet below. He sat up, smoothing his shirt, and observed the sole occupant of the couch. Impossible to wake with no immediate threats present, Hancock pulled the blankets closer to himself and sighed through his nose. 

   "Glad you're comfortable," Nick grumbled, and upon getting nothing in response, decided he should get something to eat.

   Certainly a strange thing for an old bot to be doing. He stood up, wondering what was on the menu for breakfast. 

  Then he realized he had to pee.

...

   By the time noon finally rolled around, he'd eaten some leftover stew, despite the texture leaving him on the verge of gagging throughout the whole meal. His body could smell and taste, but he'd never had any need to ingest anything. Not that he had a digestive system, anyways.

   It'd take a while for him to get used to eating, but if everything went well, he wouldn't have to.

   Also by noon, Holly had tipped Hancock off the couch, citing that she wanted the seat with a view. He tried to continue sleeping on the floor, but Holly retaliated by using him as a footrest until he got up. He mosied off for a smoke break and managed to join Nick and the General as they finished putting their packs together. They'd started armoring up, and Hancock noticed that Nick's trench coat looked the tiniest bit thicker. He realized that the General had taken this unusual opportunity to add a ballistic weave to it while he and Nick were asleep.

   Nick had stoically refused the armored layer every time she'd offered, the first time when she'd altered Preston's overcoat. The second when she modified Piper's, and again when she'd fixed up Hancock's own coat. The General had to repair it since he'd almost gotten a hole blown in him, and therefore wasn't conscious to try patching it. She made sure she wouldn't be repeating that kind of repair anytime soon.

   Sometimes he'd run his fingers on the exposed edge of the protective fabric and wonder just what he did, what any of them did, to deserve someone like her.

   "What are you smiling about?" Nick asked gruffly. It was a very strange tone to hear in the General's voice.

   Hancock realized he'd been staring vacantly at Nick while the General helped him dress as he gathered wool. "Our lovely General, of course."

   She looked up from the cage armor she'd been fitting Nick into. "Are you coming with us, John? You can lead the charge into the worst tourist spot this end of the Commonwealth."

   "'Course I am. Wouldn't want to miss this party. Can't wait to see how you two handle a brawl like this." He was grinning, Nick was much smaller than he was used to being, unable to properly grip his pipe pistol. The General, however, was probably going to use Nick's strength to swing that unsettling sword around effectively. 

   Speaking of, Nick looked like he was drowning in the cage armor, despite the myriad modifications made to it. He was grateful that he didn't have to wear the helmet, at least. Although if what he'd heard from Cait was accurate, the helmet had been shattered in a skirmish with some super mutants.

   Nick adjusted his cuffs and watched as the General slung her pack across her back. Hancock found his boots and pulled them on. He looked around for his tricorn, and the General flicked it onto his head like she was playing a ring toss game. 

   "Thanks, Sunshine," He said, beaming.

...

   It didn't actually take long for them to reach the site, despite Nick being unused to legs that got tired, but it did take a while to locate all the new raiders. They must have been watching the mine, waiting for an opportunity for a new stronghold. The group appeared to have moved in shortly after the General had fled with Nick. That hadn't left them time to set up any automated defenses, so the trio didn't need to worry about suddenly being torn apart by a turret.

   They'd also pried the corpse out of the damaged power frame and had a living raider walking around in it. The General had backed the original occupant off the high end of the ramp leading into the main pit. They didn't land on their feet. One of them must have been an experienced mechanic, to have been able to pound that dent out. 

   The General decided that, with their current predicament, they should take a stealthy way in. Avoid getting spotted for as long as possible. Stay close to the wall so they can't see us from below. Plenty of cover to hide bodies. Use muffled weapons only. John, put the shotgun away. You can use it inside, I promise.

  Nick checked Deliverer, ensuring that it was loaded and ready. Hancock and the General held rifles with recognizable pipes attached to the ends of the barrels. Nick watched some thought strike the General, a rather nasty one from the way her face twisted momentarily. He figured it was from the brutal approach she was having them take. No time for talking anyone down, he thought sadly. Nick made a mental note to talk to her about this next chance he got.

...

   It took the three of them nearly forty-five minutes to get to the decrepit entrance of the mine. The last pair of raiders proved to be difficult, since one of them had an entire bandolier of frag grenades. But Hancock snuck behind them on one of the stairways and dropped a mine under their feet. The General made sure to yank Nick under cover before he was riddled with holes.

   "Sorry, sweetheart. Forgot." he said with a rather shy look. Probably from the way she was poised over him protectively.

   "Alright! Where to next?" Hancock was gleeful as he stepped carefully through the gory scene. 

   "Into a union-man's worst nightmare," The General replied as she helped Nick to his feet.

   "Can't wait," Nick said, trying to hide the slight flush creeping up his neck.

Chapter Text

   They had their first incident immediately after leaving the Slog.

   The trio had just reached the front of the old bus by the stream, and Nick had been distracted by the way the light caught on the flowers of the ferns nestled between the two cars outside the diner. He caught the toe of his boot on an uneven patch of pavement and fell, skinning one knee. "Ah, shit!" 

   He sat on the ground, holding the offending limb and hissing through his teeth. The General and Hancock could see the raw spot through the fresh hole in the cloth. "Damn!" 

   "I guess the knee pads are going back on," The General noted as she pulled a bottle of disinfectant and a rag out of her med kit. There were tears gathering in Nick's eyes. He was still unused to the sheer rawness of sensation in organic flesh. It stung.

   "Ah, Old Nick doesn't seem to remember a skinned knee hurting this much." He winced as the General rolled his pant leg up and over his knee.

   "That's because that's my knee and besides, you've seen me get minor injuries before. Don't you remember Danse carrying me home because I sprained my ankle? I'm the biggest damn baby in the Commonwealth."

   "That's for sure," Hancock chuckled. She'd cried after slicing her thumb while opening a stubborn box of Dandy Boy Apples in his office not long after they'd met. Fahrenheit had run in from the other room at her cry, only to find the General whining as she hopped in place, her other hand squeezing the cut finger. Fahrenheit had sighed and helped her clean it and stick a bandage to it. Hancock had walked in on his bodyguard kissing the wound better and hadn't let her forget it.

   The General taped a piece of gauze over the scrape to keep the rough cloth from rubbing against it. "Alright, you're good, Nick. Let's go," she said as she pulled him to his feet. 

   It was such a strange sight, Nick wearing the General's gear, with her concerns open on his face; while the General wore Nick's usual expressions that were supposed to mean I'm fine, don't worry, it's just a scratch, let's keep moving.

   It was literally just a scratch, but Nick was still trying to be just as stoic as when he had a smoking hole in his abdomen. Hancock was still glad they didn't really have to explain this situation to anyone right now. He was still grateful that Wiseman had accepted the General's story at face value. He could imagine the look on Piper's face when she saw 'Nick' excitedly chasing the settlement's dogs around and baby-talking them.

   A few minutes later, after reattaching the leg plates, they carefully picked their way down the steep path to the water, which the General realized would be over Nick's knees. "Oh, Nick, you are gonna love this."

   "What do you mean, sweet-HEART!" He yelped as he was scooped up. He started to protest, but stopped when the General's pip-boy, which was still strapped to his wrist, started clicking as she stepped into the murky water. "Oh."

   "I don't think you want to experience an infection caused by water-born bacteria either. 'Cause they're pretty gross."

   "I don't think he'd be the one having to deal with that if we do this right,"  Hancock called from behind them. He'd pulled his boots off and was working on rolling up the legs of his pants. He'd rather dry his feet off than slosh his way to the mine. Not a very stealthy approach, or a comfortable one.

   He trudged through the water, feeling the almost imperceptible warmth of radiation in his feet. Ten years of ghoulishness, and he still found that a little weird.

   By the time he reached the opposite bank, the General had released Nick and was draining her shoes. Hancock snickered at her as he pulled his dry socks and boots on. 

   "You hush!" She scolded. "I've been wearing boots with built-in drains for years. These shoes might have holes in them, but that doesn't count."

   "It's harder than you might think to find shoes in my size these days. Ellie did find me a pair of bowling shoes a while back, though they aren't much use outside the Galleria."

   "That means you owe us a game," The General teased as she clambered up the fallen slabs of the overpass.

...

   Hancock nibbled on a mentat as the three walked through a trench-like formation that had been carved into the landscape. He caught the General's intact hand in his as he watched Nick adjust his grip on Deliverer. He'd seen Nick use it before, when the General had been knocked down and disarmed by a mirelurk, but he'd never had much practice with it. It was balanced differently than his old pipe pistol, thanks to the silencer screwed onto the barrel. Hancock didn't worry, Nick was adaptable. If he wasn't, they'd still be at the Slog, with Nick screaming in confusion out of fear of the unknown.

   They'd be able to see the outer perimeter of the quarry in a turn of the path or two. There were two outbuildings that needed to be checked and cleared before they could descend, and Hancock was itching to use his knife. He'd unsheathed it and was flipping it around with one hand, the other swinging back and forth with the General's.

   "So what are we headed into?" Hancock asked. They'd gone over a general plan before leaving, but it never hurt to be prepared for every step of the way.

   "Last time there was only one person in each building around the edge, and they didn't have any alarms, but there was a terminal connected to the turrets in the pit," The General explained. "Though we didn't find that out until after we'd blown everything up. But we'll have to be quiet so we don't draw any unnecessary attention to ourselves. John, you're taking point." She emphasized the last word, eyeing the knife the ghoul was twirling. He grinned and squeezed her hand.

   Hancock took the lead when they could see the light stone of the quarry's edge. The closest building came into view, and the General took her place behind Hancock. "Sorry we're keeping you tucked away, Nick. But you're not used to being able to get hurt and, ya know. Die from it."

   "Wouldn't wanna get you hurt in the first place. Anyways, I'm just borrowing your body."

   Hancock shushed them and pointed to the glassless window, where they watched an unarmored raider pass by. They sat down in a chair at a desk and opened a bottle of liquor. The ghoul smirked at the easy target and pulled himself soundlessly over the railing. He crept through the small room and had his knife in them before they could react. The raider slumped forward over the desk, twitching slightly. The bottle rolled away, its contents spilling out.

   "Room's clear!" Hancock announced. "There's some bags in here you might want to check out."

   Nick and the General snuck around to the entrance of the ramp, wary of being spotted by a competent raider. Which was unlikely, but they didn't want to risk anything again in this place.

   The General spotted the aforementioned bags tucked away in the corner- a big green duffle with a few smaller patchwork sacks piled on it. Hancock had already loosened the drawstrings on one of them. He handed Nick a second bag as he stepped in, avoiding the spreading pool of blood and alcohol. 

   Then they had their second incident.

   Nick opened the bag and made a loud noise of disgust at the chunk of slimy meat inside, which startled the General, who rushed forward out of some protective instinct. Nick dropped the bag at a loud metallic clang which was immediately followed by the whump of the General falling backwards. Nick whipped around to see the General sitting on the floor, minus her hat and holding a hand to her forehead, wearing an expression of complete shock.

   There was a second of pure panic in both Nick and Hancock before they noticed the low-hanging lamp swinging wildly from the ceiling.

   "Ouch?" The General said, confused as to how she got on the floor.

   Nick chuckled quietly while Hancock guffawed. "You okay, sunshine?" Hancock asked between breaths.

   "Yeah..." She answered hesitantly. "I forgot how tall you are." She still sat on the floor, legs sprawled out, hand on her head. Nick scooted over to her, again, avoiding the blood and booze.

   He gently pulled her hand away and rubbed the faint line indented in the synthetic flesh. "It'll stop stinging like that in a few seconds." His lip curled. "It's been a while since you've conked your head like that, sure you're alright?"

   Hancock crawled over, wheezing, as she answered. "I'm okay, Nick." The wide-eyed expression of shock faded from her face, to be replaced by embarrassment. "Whoops."

   "S'alright sunshine," Hancock said, kissing her forehead. He'd calmed down enough that only an quiet snort slipped out. 

   "Though this isn't as bad as when I was installing the ceiling fan in Shaun's room. I fell off the step ladder and Nate and Codsworth thought I was fucking dead. I had a bruise in a straight line across my forehead for a month." She traced a metal finger along where her bruise had been. "I still have no idea how it even happened."

   "As long as you're still with us, sweetheart," Nick said as he planted a kiss of his own. "Now let's get a move on," With a flip of his head he directed Hancock to help lift the General to her feet. 

   "As long as I don't get any more light fixtures to the head."

Chapter Text

   The door leading into the mine was surprisingly sturdy for its age and appearance. The General had been almost unable to heave it open during their initial visit. This time, however, the General possessed Nick's muscle. She didn't quite realize how strong the synth actually was until she nearly yanked the door from its hinges. She'd thought she was applying the same force as she had the first time, but had momentarily forgotten about the switch. Hancock whooped as the frame groaned and the General quickly let go before she removed the handle.

   "Oops."

   "Oh, I love it when you break shit, baby!" Hancock cheered.

   "John, shush. I didn't break it." The door responded by falling off its hinges, dust puffing out from under it. Hancock gave her his best shit-eating grin while Nick chuckled.

   "Let's just go in," she huffed.

   The entryway of the mine was steep and dark, full of pipes and tubes once used for ventilation, power, and fuel supply. There was something that resembled a rail, but seemed to consist of once-live wires. The place was a death trap from day one. The General wondered how long that thing had been in here. And how long it had been luring people to descend into the darkness to seek it out. And how many of those people came back out.

   "It's even worse in here the second time around," the General said quietly, her voice clear amidst the rumblings of the tunnels. "I guess it's because we know there's some Lovecraftian asshole living in here." 

   "Tried reading Lovecraft a while back," Hancock chimed in. "The hell was that guy's problem?"

   "He was so racist that he was probably afraid of his own shadow?" The General offered.

   Nick wheezed at the General's response, smothering the sounds in his sleeve, lest he alert any enemies in the chamber ahead. 

   They took a minute to get the giggles out before they cleared the first station, although there was only one raider, downed immediately by Deliverer, held in Nick's hand. He unwrapped a stiff piece of bubblegum as the General checked over the corpse, policing ammunition and searching for a pulse. When she found none, she descended the rusting stairs and rejoined the pair below. With a silent understanding, they moved on to the next station.

...

   They were getting close to the sacrificial chamber, or whatever it was. The mine was sparsely populated, only one or two people to a station. A few were ghouls, and as Hancock pointed out, they were in the early stages of going feral. One of them trembled in a corner, muttering to himself, scratching the remainder of the skin off his arm. The last thing Nick heard him say was a very clear 'run.' 

   Nick found that his hands were shaking. He scooted his sleeves down over them so the General and Hancock wouldn't notice. Hope this doesn't take too long, he thought grimly.

... 

   It was time to reenter the chamber, the smell of the water drifting out, weighing heavily in the stale air. Nick felt a queasiness, an animal feeling deep in his belly that breathed don't go in there get away leave turn around run run runrunrunrun.

   "Nick?" the General asked gently, placing a reassuring hand on his cheek. He realized he was frozen in place, limbs numb, almost gasping for air. 

   "I'm fine," he choked out.

   "No, you're not," Hancock said, the usual gravel of his voice softened. Nick began to shake, he couldn't figure out how to make it stop. 

  He tried responding, but all that came out was a quiet sob. The General pulled him into a firm and comforting hug. He distantly realized his body didn't feel pressure half as well as she did. Hancock joined in, stretching his arms around them both. His hands couldn't meet one another across the General's back, but the added weight helped calm Nick down. 

   "It's alright Nick," the General soothed. "I felt like that too. But you're not used to being meat. It's real fuckin' easy to get overwhelmed." Nick smiled slightly into her chest. "Here," she said, as she released him and fluidly dropped to the floor. "Sit."

   She was cross-legged, allowing him to easily sit in her lap. It was strange, he thought, how easily they'd changed ownership of their bodies. He seated himself somewhat sideways, and was quickly recaptured by both the General and Hancock. He'd knelt in front of Nick and the General but immediately tried squishing the detective, competing for lap space. The pressure was therapeutic to Nick; he listened to the ghoul's heartbeat, and the nearly-imperceptible hum coming from the General's chest. He wondered if the faint sounds of his internal workings was like a cat's purr to the General, under normal circumstances. He closed his eyes and focused on blocking out the mine's effects.

   "Tell us when you're ready, Nicky," Hancock murmured.

...

   None of them could tell how long they'd been curled up on the floor together, just that Nick's breathing and heart rate had slowed to normal. I'll be okay, let's go. We're almost there.

   As they warily traveled down the tunnel leading to the chamber, the temperature dropped, and Nick was glad the General had insisted on the thick cage armor. He still felt a little shaky after his episode, but a quick snack had helped him back on his feet. Anxiety attack, the General had said,  you've helped me through them before, remember?

   He'd nearly forgotten, although he did go through similar episodes. But waking up occupying her body had been a brief moment of panic, and had faded fairly quickly. With his body, his various systems misfiring from an intense emotional response had nothing on an organic body's reaction. He couldn't dredge up any of old Nick's memories like that. There were depressive episodes, sure, but Nick couldn't remember anxiety or even panic attacks. When they got back to their proper bodies, he'd have to keep a closer eye on her.

   The chamber remained empty, although strangely, the bodies of the ghouls were gone. It didn't make sense, to drag the corpses all the way out of the mine. But it did make sense that the new tenants would toss the bodies into the dreadful water. The General dearly hoped that they wouldn't have to go in there if there were decaying ferals contaminating the water. She held back a shiver as she remembered some of her water recovery calls with the fire department. 

   She pulled her pack off when they picked their way to the hole in the wall leading to the secondary chamber. Blindly groping around her supplies, she found the artifact. Upon its reveal, she noticed the colorless circles were now a luminescent green, the same as the flash that Nick had described. The General felt a sudden itch in the back of her mind, rapidly rising to the surface, it sounded like a chant.

   death death death deathdeathdeathDEATHDEATH

   She let the accursed sphere drop back into her pack before it blabbed anything else.

   "Ugh."

  Nick was once again inspecting the skeleton still lying on the floor. This time, however, he didn't have to worry about being ambushed. The boards of the shrine was scattered around the bones, like it had been blown apart by a whirlwind. He guessed it happened when the artifact discharged and switched them. Hmmmmm...

   Hancock was inspecting a scorch mark on the floor, noticing the patterns in the dirt and debris on the uneven stone. He could see a patch towards the entrance, like someone had been rolling around. Dark spots of dubious origin stained the granite. He figured it was where Nick had tackled the General. 

   "Hey, I think this thing is powered by death, or something." She said. "Or maybe it steals souls? Either way it's excited."

   "Eats brains?" Hancock added, turning to face her so she could see his grin.

   "Hey,"  The General responded with mock offense.

   "Ya know," Nick started. "I think that thing might be used like a grenade. And, like a grenade, it affects everyone within range."

   Hancock looked up from where he'd wandered by the broken alter. "So I should leave you two alone? In this nice dark room? All by yourselves?"

   "Yeah, with this nice dead guy," she quipped in return. "He tells the best stories."

   "Just call me if you need me, babe," He said, and headed back down the tunnel to the large cavern. There was a platform with some chairs he could station himself at in case any surviving raiders decided to show their faces. Hancock suddenly popped back around the corner. "I mean babes." He darted away before Nick could react.

   "Smartass," Nick grumbled affectionately as the ghoul's footsteps echoed away. 

   The pair dropped their packs and removed holsters, preparing for the results of the first event. Although this time, there would a lot less slamming into the ground. That also ruled out the need for a helmet. 

   "Nick?" The General asked suddenly. "I think you're gonna have to carry me out of here. You were disoriented and exhausted, and you were hurt. It's gotta be rough, getting yanked from one body into another. Especially an organic one." 

   "Don't worry sweetheart, we'll take care of ya." He stood face-to-face with her. "Besides, I gotta pay ya back for carrying me around." 

   She weighed the orb in one hand. "Ready to see if this works a second time, Nick?"

   He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her middle. Together they sank to the floor. 

   "Ready," He said. 

   The General hesitated, unsure of how exactly to proceed. She recalled the way the raider had dropped the artifact, and how it went off unaided after the impact. Ah she thought and raised her arm high, and let the sphere fall from her hand. 

   Again, that intense emerald light blinded them, the heat almost suffocating. The General felt like she was being washed away; Nick thought he was coming apart.

   And everything went dark.

...

   "Sunshine? Baby ya gotta wake up now." A gravelly voice tugged at the void the General floated in. Sudden contact made her flinch awake, finding rough hands cupping her face. She made out Hancock's face in the dim lamplight. He caught her half-open eyes staring blearily at him and smiled with relief. "Hey," he said gently. "We were getting worried."

   "Where's Nick?" she asked, voice cracking. "He alright?"

   "Nicky's fine, sunshine." He handed her an open can of water. "We thought ya might be rejoining the land of the living so he went to get dinner." 

   The General had drained the can before he'd finished his sentence. He handed her another from the side table. They were in the same partitioned room as before, she realized. Well, duh. That's the whole reason we put the wall up. Patient privacy. A brig. Squash storage. 

   She felt dizzy.

   "John, how long was I asleep?"

   "Almost an entire day. You don't hold up against murderous balls as well as the great detective does." 

   He looked like he was going to continue with another euphemism, but was distracted by Nick carefully pushing the door open with his foot. He held two trays of food, and the General could see bottles of nuka cola stuffed in his coat pockets. She couldn't describe the rush of emotion upon seeing the synth's amber optics glowing across the small room. The detective barely got the trays down before he was being fiercely hugged, the General burying her face in his side.

   Hancock fished the soda out of Nick's coat, kissing the General's forehead in the process. "Eat first, snuggle later." He winked.

   Nick watched as they ate quickly, the General finishing her radstag and potatoes before Hancock got halfway through his steak. The ghoul caught up when she had to pause from a gagging fit. 

   Somehow, during the course of the meal, the three had wound up in the small bed. Hancock guessed he'd crawled in when the General didn't look immediately interested in her dessert and he thought he had a chance at pilfering some. It could also have happened when she asked Nick how he was feeling and no longer had her eyes on the melon chunks on the corner of her tray.

   Nick removed his coat, shoes, and hat before navigating his way to the side of the mattress that edged the wall. He undid his tie and tossed it onto the chair where he left his coat while the General stacked the trays on the side table with the empty drinks. He wondered if today was going to be the day that Hancock finally got a fork in the hand for his table manners.

   And for the third time in about as many days, the three settled in for the night, nestled against one another, squishing the General in the middle.

...

   Deep in the bowels of Dunwich Borers, a dim metallic sphere sits in the bottom of a well decorated with bones. A faint green glow paints its surface as a quiet hum vibrates the murky water.