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deep into that darkness
peering
long I stood there, wondering
fearing
-
Nick was a confident man. He carried himself proud, and was just as quick to snap back with a witty comment should anybody test that. He was proud of who he was, what he had built for himself. Confident in the handful of traits he had mastered over the years.
Hell, he had accomplished a lot, it would be weird if he didn't feel that sweet swell of pride when someone took notice. Something he felt especially so when Val was the one complimenting him.
Maybe it was that deeply embedded need to feel praised, or something much simpler. Near the surface.
Either way, oftentimes he felt confused and conflicted when greeted with emotions, specifically ones as complex as love. Perhaps tipping towards infatuation. But of this, Nick was sure. He was at his most confident when Val was around.
Maybe not at this exact moment, however.
Sure, he had the walk, he had the talk. He wasn't exactly easy on the eyes though, at least that's what most had told him before, and he had come to believe that. Not many were exactly thrilled to see a synth, let alone one as beaten up as himself. And yeah, he trusted Val, with his life even. He just wasn't sure he was ready to trust them with this.
Maybe that was why that word, muttered far too darkly, had struck him as hard as it did.
"Strip."
It rang between his ears, even reverbed off the metal that made up his head. Caught him off guard, wasn't able to come up with a quip in time so opted for the truth.
"Not too sure how comfortable I am with that, doll." Nick chuckled right after, hoping to ease the tension that had settled in between them.
Their eyes remained locked onto him, unwavering.
"I wasn't asking."
They had taken him to a basement just at the back of one of the empty houses in Sanctuary, on the curve of the roundabout. Nobody ever had a reason to go that far down the street, the odds of somebody hearing him if he yelled for help were slim to none.
The climb back up the ladder and opening the hatch would take just long enough. They would get up from the ammo crate at the foot of the mattress where they sat, then they would yank him down from the rungs like ripping off a bandaid. He'd watched them take on super mutants twice their size, it wouldn't be hard.
Should've trusted the gut feeling he had when they asked him to follow, but it's not like they had ever done him wrong before. Deep down, Nick knew he could trust them. Deep down.
Maybe he had been played for a fool. The way Val was looking at him, pure carnal hunger with a hint of something sadistic, it certainly made him feel that way.
This is betrayal.
He almost voiced that thought, but seeing as how they already looked impatient, Nick didn't see any way that would help him. It would make things worse, but it was already pretty bad.
Trapped.
"Do you know me to be a patient person, Nick?" No, he didn't. At this moment, he didn't think he knew them at all, but the timer was ticking down. No escape, no negotiating, no intimidating. What they said would go, because really. Someone like them who had such a way with words, they would spit out a sob story smooth like butter and all the settlers would eat it up.
"We were ambushed by raiders," this. "He got struck by a stray bullet," that. "I'm lucky I made it out with my life."
They would never suspect a thing.
What choice did he have?
Still, Nick stood his ground. He hoped that by some sliver of chance they would have a change of heart.
Their face, once sporting calm features, wrinkled. Brow furrowed, and Nick was petrified. In all their time traveling together he never saw them like this, never an angry wrinkle, never an attempt at intimidation in hopes of personal gain.
He truly didn't know them at all.
There had been times when he had overheard their conversations with their other partners. Some shared his values, and he got along with them. Others, not so much. He could never fully grasp how Val could get along with someone like Danse or Strong, how drastically everyone's personalities differed.
So Nick overheard things. He listened, and spoke with the others. The way Val spoke with them, the way the others described them, it was so vastly different from the person he saw.
Only then did it occur to Nick, the puzzle pieces clicking in perfectly. Everything he saw, or rather everything Val ever showed to him, was a facade. He knew they were good at escalating and de-escalating a situation at will. They said what they needed to say to get on anybody's good side.
That brow furrowing was similar to that of a mask slipping, because their features promptly smoothed back out.
Calm. Far too calm.
Not the person he thought he knew.
"It's admirable. That you're still putting up a fight." They rose, took the steps towards Nick, closed the gap. "You know you've already lost, struggling in vain is only worsening your situation, Valentine."
That was right. Nick would often get glimpses. What he always passed for a nightmare, moments like this, where Val was at their darkest. He remembered one such moment with guttural viscera.
The sickening feeling of his anatomy cracking out of place and reassembling, the piercing rip and shred of his throat. The dissociation of his traumatic experience left him frozen in place, gazing at his own mutilated body, and what looked like his own face glitching out of reality.
It had only been a few minutes, felt like hours.
He was powerless.
The objective? To see him naked, his right hand was even repaired. That's what the voices said, unlike Val's. They commented on the things done to his body, as if they hadn't caused it, as if what was being done to him was also out of their hands.
What kind of sick god even beyond them had decided that this should happen?
He would never know. Because everything had gone back to normal. Clothes right back where they belonged, no cracking mutilation. Val opened the door to Kellogg's former house, and they went back to their objective as if nothing happened.
Yeah, Nick knew his struggle would only make matters worse. So he caved. Collapsed into himself and stopped thinking, just went through the motions.
Reached up to take his hat off first, that was easiest. It didn't cover much, most of the damage from his shoulders and up rested on his face. Chunks of synthetic flesh withered away as he spent his time in the Commonwealth, but the missing pieces in his face were the ones he was most comfortable with.
He had to be.
While that was a milestone to Nick, Val's expression didn't change at all. The glint of irritation resting in their eyes told him they expected much more, of that, he was sure.
Dread.
So he collapsed further still. The duster made that easy, it was just a coat after all. Though he slid it off his shoulders with little grace, the fabric thumping to the floor with the weight of whatever he had been carrying on him. Cigarettes and a lighter most likely. There was still that carnal look Val gave him, hidden amidst the irritation.
Therein laid the tricky part. Suspenders? No problem. Necktie? Without a hitch. The buttons on his shirt provided a new problem though. Not because of some inability to dress himself, though the missing skin on his right hand provided its own challenge, the way his hands trembled lightly with fear was the main culprit this time around.
Unbuttoning his shirt took longer, the impatient noises made by Val would jolt him to hurry up, causing more mistakes, which made him take even longer.
So continues the vicious cycle.
Maybe they knew the nerves would rack up. Maybe they knew Nick would struggle, and he would have to ask for help. Maybe they planned this whole encounter down to even the finest detail, this moment included.
Maybe he underestimated them.
Because this was worse by far. Being held captive and forced to strip against his own will, that was already nailing in the trauma. But having to ask his captor for help with the task he already loathed doing? He would be kept up at night for decades to come, lest his dreams dig up any attempts at burying this memory in the furthest reaches of his mind.
Assuming he could sleep long enough for that to happen in the first place.
Then it seemed he had reached an impasse, and all he did was look up. Eyes locked, and they already knew.
Of course they knew.
Never should've underestimated them.
"Do you need help, Nicky?" They asked with a tilt of their head, in a tone masquerading as genuine, far too sweet. He only nodded.
"I want you to ask for it."
Idly opened and closed his good hand, weighing the odds of him knocking them out in one hit if he tried. Ultimately decided that was a terrible idea.
A heavy sigh. Caved again.
"Will you help me unbutton my shirt?
"And the magic word?"
" Please. "
Then they smiled, and against all his coding he felt sick to his stomach. Val undid the buttons while Nick fought back the urge to vomit, despite knowing it wasn't possible to begin with. The assistance, of course, ended with the buttons, and they reclaimed their seat on the ammo crate. Nick was then reminded of his duty.
Right. Untuck the shirt, remove the fabric.
Still something in the way.
The gun that always sat in his waistband, easy access if ever the need should arise, which was frequently. He grabbed it by the handle, his finger already on the trigger by instinct. Every neuron in his mind fired off a plea.
Don't do it.
And yet…
He pointed the gun at them. Roughly five feet away, his extended arms closing that gap maybe in half. There was no way he'd miss.
"What are you doing, Nick?" They sounded unimpressed, possibly a little amused.
They think this is funny?
"Well, you're sitting down, I've got a clear shot of your head at point blank range. Those odds seem pretty good to me. What do you think, doll?" Nick tried his best to sound intimidating, to sharpen and slice in some kind of edge to his voice. Hell, the anger he was burying down this whole time was even bubbling to the surface. Sure, his voice wavered, but the boiling fury was there.
He really did like his odds.
"Your safety is on. It always is when you think you're in a safe space."
And that was just enough. Just enough to make Nick doubt himself.
It was like slow motion, Nick knew he fucked up. The moment he looked away to check, Val was standing. They were right, and by the time he had clicked it off and pulled the trigger, they had already pushed the gun aside.
The bullet landed somewhere in the dirt of the wall.
Gun pulled from his grasp. Effortless. They emptied it, turned the safety back on and tossed it to the side.
He only ever carried the one.
"You're lucky I find you so cute," a hand around his throat, "otherwise you'd be dead where you stand." Released, and they once again reclaimed their seat on the ammo crate.
They really did think this was funny.
It was a game to them.
Nick only tilted his head down, solemnly. Didn't have anything to say, no snarky comment, nothing.
Untucked his shirt and slid the fabric from his shoulders, opting to let the garment fall, but was interrupted when Val stuck their hand out. He gave them his shirt, and they held it close to their chest, similar to how a child might hug their favorite stuffed toy.
It was almost endearing.
Maybe if the circumstances were different…
No. Don't give in.
Right, that's what they wanted. They wanted him to give in, wanted him to be a willing little play thing, but Nick had some dignity left. It wasn't going to be wasted on a what if.
So he disconnected himself from the moment, again. Made things easier, made the next part not as unbearable, though it did scream an impending doom.
Just what are their intentions? After it's all off?
Didn't want to think about it. So, right, disconnected. But while he kicked off his shoes and undid the button and zipper of his pants, slid over his hips and joined his coat on the floor, that word too bounced around in his head.
Lucky.
There had been time and again when his secretary, Ellie, had made comments on that. His luck often ran thin in his line of work. Perhaps if her words had embedded further, "You keep laughing at death, some day death is gonna laugh back." Perhaps if he hadn't put his trust in the wrong hands.
But now wasn't the time to dwell. Not while Val stared at the holes speckling his body, exposing bolts and wires just like the ones in his face, except more personal. He couldn't explain why. Maybe it was the memories planted in his brain, telling him he's old fashioned and rushing into something like this was too much. Maybe it was the lingering insecurities, telling him that nobody should want to see this.
And yet, they did.
He could feel it, that familiar beckoning call. That they were different, they saw something more in him, saw past the metal.
If the circumstances were different…
Val got up then, closed the gap and chose one of the holes in his torso. Ran their fingers along the edges, hooked around the metal frames and pumps. It didn't hurt, only felt unnatural, he was glad for that at least.
They grabbed his good hand, intertwined their fingers. Leaned in close and kissed him, lingered long enough for him to realize he was supposed to kiss back. Nick did just that, in hopes it would appease them. They only took that as an opportunity to deepen the kiss, opened their mouth and he followed suit so their tongues could meet, just complying.
Their free hand went up to hang over his shoulder, a tickle going down his back told him they still had his shirt clutched in their fist. Let go of his hand, then felt those fingers tread down his stomach to his thigh, traced the path back up and settled on his hip.
None of it felt bad, but that was the problem, wasn't it?
Nick loved Val, really he did. He was forced into this situation though, before he was ready, all of it happening too fast.
But he'd be lying if he said he didn't like it.
There's something wrong with me. There's something wrong with them.
The both of us.
And maybe he had almost seen it. That raw, wide open maw, that split the foundations of everything he knew and would ever learn. He thought he knew, and now he learned.
But was it so wrong?
It was tragic, wasn't it?
So, so deeply rooted. Pathetically so. But with no foundation, where could he possibly stand?
He cracked, and caved.
Oh how far we've fallen.
Then Nick touched back. Skinned hand graced their clothed waist with those metal fingers' sharp demanding presence. Good hand reached, upupup , curled around their jawline and he kissed back with fervor.
Kissing. Touching, touching. Fingers threading, heartbeat and coolant thrumming.
Their hands wandered, he didn't follow their path, too focused on the moment. He couldn't just relinquish, he had to take back. His rebellion laid in the senses, took little bits that they couldn't see.
He savored the chemical taste of their lipstick, figured it must be marking up his own lips and fuck he wanted to see. Breathed in the earthy aromas of the basement, his own hint of metal and oil, then the smell that was distinctly Val. It was never bad, just unique, kind of new on account of their preservation from before the war.
Took it all, then honed in. Felt those fingers pressing into his musty skin, then suddenly they were lifting, and he followed that basic instinct to wrap his legs around their waist. Moving, lowering, laid down on his back on the nearing putrid mattress but he couldn't be bothered to care. If he ignored the slight damp feeling, if he focused solely on them, he could almost forget.
He could almost forgive himself. Could almost forgive them.
Then their lips parted and Nick was given a moment to breathe while Val trailed bites down his neck and collarbone, leaving licks and kisses in their wake. If they were bothered by the dirt caked onto his skin over the years, they didn't voice it. He was grateful for that.
Nick settled on threading the fingers of his good hand through Val's hair, his bare hand covered his eyes, now closed to help him focus. Attention now fixated on a vaguely familiar tightening in his lower abdomen, a feeling he could trace back through old Nick's memories. Something big, but he wasn't sure how it would play out with his current anatomy.
Val seemed to know how to handle him though, despite what he assumed would be an inexperience with a robot body. Still those hands wandered, his shirt presumably discarded for the time being. One back to toying with the edges of his withered skin, that sensation teetering on the fine line of foreign, not quite tipping to either side of pain or pleasure. But it melded with the sensations caused by their other hand venturing lower. Massaging into his inner thigh, and that was the spot, just enough to make him buck his hips up, silently asking for more. He was rewarded with the pads of their fingers brushing the margin where his skin grew thin, but didn't expose any inner metal.
Sensory input was a bizarre concept, still quite new, Nick had never let anybody get this close before. He knew he felt hot, burning even, even with the coolness of the air and the coolant struggling to keep him from overheating. Felt that heat, that coiling tightness in his gut. Every siren going off in his head telling him to slow down was utterly ignored.
Though he was certain if he had asked to stop it would fall on deaf ears.
All his sensors set ablaze was becoming unbearable, just needed something, something to tip him over. And it seemed the now frequent bucking of his hips wasn't getting the message across, so he fell further still.
"P-Please--" muttered desperately, cursing his lacking dignity, but Val perked up with that with an inquisitive hum. They were listening, probably even knew what he wanted but still they played the game.
Have to ask for it.
A shaky sigh, trying to compose any portion of himself still coherent.
"Please, I-I need more." Breathing now labored, damn near a whining mess but still that wasn't enough. It never was.
Their lips parted from his neck long enough to speak, feigning ignorance, "What do you need, Nicky? You gotta tell me."
Snapped. Opened his eyes and met theirs, already watching him.
"Damn it, you know what I want, so just do it already!"
Then they smirked. Fucking smirked. And in a fleeting moment of mercy, they too gave in.
Wandering hand finally met the smooth skin of his crotch, usually covered so not as caked with filth as the rest of his body. They pressed against it, massaging the area, surely guessing but it was exactly what he needed. Tightened coil broke, eyes wound shut, voice intact long enough to let out a string of static. Heard a click in the back of his head, then he went offline.
Nick came back online with his sight slightly blurry, clear enough to make out Val sitting on his chest. Their back was to him, arms lifted in such a way that it looked like they were holding something.
He tried reaching up to them but his arm didn't move, some systems taking longer to come back online after the forced reboot. When he tried to speak, all that came out was that same string of static, but it was enough to get Val's attention. They turned to look back, their features initially twisted in a look of intense focus, softened just a touch.
Nick's eyes landed on what was in their hands, however. Their gauss rifle, loaded, safety off. His eyes widened.
"Oh, Nicky, you're awake. Don't worry, this won't hurt a bit. I promise." They must've sensed his distress, because they spoke in a tender tone, even gave him a warm smile. Likely trying to soothe him.
It didn't work.
Systems came back online, and he fought as much as he could despite the compromised position. Seemed it was far too late though.
They didn't even flinch at his last second fuss.
It was instant.
One moment he could feel his leg, he was thrashing as he remembered. Releasing his last bit of fight. Next, all nerves were cut off, literally.
He had watched, as Val took aim with their rifle. All it took was one shot. His leg was severed, the skin that once remained on his foot shredded to tiny metal bits. The smell of that mini explosion caused by the gauss rifle filled the air.
It didn't hurt like they had promised, didn't even have the chance to. Finally he found his voice, and still he screamed, he wailed, he tossed and turned. Agony overwhelming his senses, the realization embedding in his mind.
That was it.
All it took was one spent ammo, one moment, and his leg was gone.
His other leg went next, and when they turned around to face him, his arms were removed with the same ease.
He couldn't form words, no coherent thoughts pieced together well enough.
Should he scream?
Should he cry?
Should he mourn the loss of his limbs? Knowing that in a matter of seconds he was beyond repair.
He had no time to settle.
Nick watched helplessly as Val raised the scope up to their eye, and aimed for his head.
Their voice was sweet, far too sweet. Their other eye looked kind.
"You look so beautiful like this."
Then it was dark, malicious.
The mask slipped.
"You're helpless, got a clear shot of your head at point blank range. Those odds seem pretty good to me. What do you think, Nicky?"
In the end, he only whimpered.
-
Two feelings were consistent.
The rush of adrenaline coursing through their veins, and the throbbing in their cock.
Their breathing was ragged, uncertain which of the two was the main culprit. They didn't care.
All that mattered was the ache of their hard on straining against the jean fabric of their pants. Had to do something about that.
First, first. Looked around, and there it was. Grabbed Nick's shirt that was tossed on the floor, smothered their face in the fabric and inhaled deeply.
Metal, dirt and oil. With a hint of cologne.
Sent another throb coursing through their shaft, felt the subsequent thick glob of pre that seeped into their underwear.
Fumbled with the button and zipper with their free hand. Funny how the tables had turned in that sense. Now they were the one struggling with the trembling in their hand. Unlike their dear, late friend however, they didn't have the luxury of asking for help.
Still, they managed.
Pulled their cock out and hissed at the cool air hitting the hot flesh. The tip weeping pre made things easier, slicking up their shaft with that nearly translucent liquid. Still huffing Nick's shirt periodically, staring down into his blank fluorescent eyes. They weren't even surprised when they lasted about five strokes before they were painting Nick's grimy, metal corpse with their seed.
Peaked on the high, relishing in the clean cuts they made on his severed limbs, and their perfect aim having spilled on the skin remaining that made up his smooth crotch. Some dirtied the mattress, so they scooped it up before it could stain, mixed it in with the pool on what would be his pelvic bone. Smeared some on what was left of his thighs and exposed chest, letting it gunk up his frames and wires.
"Gorgeous."
Leaned over his torso and picked up his decapitated head, all of the skin was blown away with the final shot from their rifle, but the structure making up his skull and eyes was still intact.
Stared into those soulless eyes, still shining that bright yellow for irises.
"You really are beautiful, you know that, Nicky? Can't believe how lucky I am to have a guy like you." Placed a kiss to his teeth, as if to cement that confession of love.
Val set Nick's head back down, taking the moment to just breathe. Took in the aromas. The natural earthiness of the basement's dirt walls, the smoke from the spent ammo now mingling with the musk of their come.
It felt peaceful, sitting in silence with their spouse's metal corpse.
-
Nick came to in what would've been a cold sweat. His coolant pumped loudly, and he breathed heavily, though he couldn't quite place why.
He was standing at the entrance to a basement, a root cellar to be exact, something Val had spotted when they were both cleaning up the debris around Sanctuary. The place looked sketchy, but he didn't object when Val opened the hatch and climbed down the ladder inside.
He only felt the surge of panic when they insisted that he follow, but he went in after regardless.
While they searched around the shelves and fiddled with the lock on the safe, hoping to gain access to the supplies kept inside, Nick was overwhelmed with a sense of déjà vu.
There was a particular itch in the back of his mind that set off signals of alarm, being in this particular place was bad news. Though there was no danger in sight, the place seemed pretty secure after all, he couldn't shake the feeling.
Couldn't shake the bizarre tingling in his limbs, nor the cumbersome pressure of filth he felt on his skin and teeth.
He felt the desire, rather, the desperate need to voice his discomfort.
"Hey, you wanna get outta here? This place seems pretty grim."
"In a minute, Nicky." Val waved back at him but didn't look away from the lock. Acknowledged him, but ultimately focused on their task.
The nickname they used for him that often gave him a feeling akin to what humans called "butterflies", instead left a bad taste in his mouth.
Were they the problem?
Nick pushed that thought aside. That couldn't possibly be the case, there was no one in the Commonwealth he trusted more than the person he watched try and fail to open that safe.
Eventually they cracked the safe, looted what they needed.
"F-Find anything good?" Nick tried quipping, anything to ease the tension that had grown far too thick.
"A gun and some ammo, but junk mostly." They replied flatly, then finally turned to leave.
But then they paused, their eyes had met with his own, and a look of concern washed over their face. In a tone, far too soft, "Are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost."
Maybe that was true. Fear, a guttural feeling close to sickness, things he wasn't used to. He did bear the burden of someone who had just looked death in the eyes. And while he looked on with that fear so unfamiliar, death looked back with concern, a practiced mask.
But they couldn't possibly be the problem.
He was certain, so he nodded.
"Yeah," his voice crackled with static, cleared his throat and tried again, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just don't like the atmosphere here is all."
Val's features softened, and they smiled a sweet little curve of their lips. Grabbed his good hand with their own, felt like he had been electrocuted but he didn't pull away, didn't want to worry them. Tilted his hat up just a touch for room, gave a little peck on his lips, burned white hot but he persevered and kissed back.
"Let's go then."
Watched them climb up the ladder, and out through the hatch. Nick went to follow, but he was compelled to look back, just for a moment.
The mattress. A filthy, grimy thing of springs and cloth.
Then a glimpse, a flicker and flash of something.
His body, dismembered chunks of metal scattered about. Lipstick on his teeth, and come on the dirty synthetic skin of his crotch.
And Val looming over him. Content.
Echoes of words whispered lovingly through the voice of a killer.
"You really are beautiful." Sick to his stomach.
"You know that, Nicky?" Wanted to wail, something wretched.
A vision? Or a memory?
He shook it away, chalked it up to an intrusive thought or a twisted nightmare of a daydream, then climbed up the ladder just the same. Val even waited to help him, and closed the hatch doors.
By this point the sun was starting to set so they mutually agreed to call it a night and headed home.
They walked in silence, and laid down in silence.
Val fell asleep almost immediately. Nick watched them. Held his finger up to their nose, felt the rhythmic beat of their steady breathing. Toyed with their hair, reveled in the soft textures.
He just couldn't believe it, he wouldn't believe it.
They couldn't possibly be the problem.
Nick trusted them with his life.