If there's anything Nora was learning very quickly about the Commonwealth, it would be that she couldn't go very far without something interesting going on close by. Sometimes this interesting thing was something good, like running into a man trying to sell you a dog ("Only 200 caps for such a sweet-looking baby? Done!"). Other times the interesting things were not so good, like an ambush of mutated, oversized scorpions rising up from absolutely nowhere ("Oh, come on! Of all the things to survive, these guys get an upgrade, too?!"). Every so often they may run into something harmless and mundane, like activating some old pre-war relay towers and getting some repeating radio signals from them. These lead to some sad souls' last words over the air, like families separated or people being trapped in their bunkers after the bombs fell. Nora figured they ought to go sort these out sometime, considering no one has heard these broadcasts in over 200 years.

Lastly, in her time out in the wastes, her favourite things have become the ones that you hear in tales from the caravan hands. Whenever they'd stop to trade off some raider trash for some dented hot plates or caps, she made she to remain friendly with them in case she would need to call on them in the future for some good information. She could only imagine the things they've seen, the stories they've heard; some were so fascinatingly interesting that they may as well be filed under "I can't make this stuff up," because who would in their right mind would believe it?

After a few days of fending off mostly wild creatures and avoiding people-infested buildings, they were glad to fall into the hospitality of two sister farmers at Oberland Station. Nick was graciously tending to their hosts while she headed upstairs to get some sleep. Not that she wouldn't have continued on through until they reached Diamond City, but his insistence that he needed a fresh set of eyes instead of a pair of dead ones on the road were the words that caused her to give up and stop in for the night. So glad to have a partner who is more stubborn about my health than I am, she thought, rolling her eyes. If she wasn't so sure his interest wasn't just for himself and her ability to watch his back, she might have found it adoring. She grinned anyway in spite of herself.

Nora changed into a set of freshly laundered loungewear she had unlocked from in a suitcase in a bus station earlier that day. Setting aside her belongings under the window sill, Nora bundled up the vault suit and began using it as a pillow. After the days they'd been having, she wondered if she ought to try getting used to sleeping in armor. No, she thought firmly, as an act to try to regain a sense of normalcy in her life. Besides, the clothes felt so nice, so orderly, so very much not like wearing a vault suit. Oh yes, wearing clean laundry of a dead man is perfectly normal. She scoffed. I'll take whatever I can get.

Distant laughter floated in through the glassless window as the three conversed amongst themselves downstairs by the campfire. Nora rolled over, thinking vaguely about how lucky she was to have amusing company. In fact, she thought often about how extremely fortunate that the people she had run into so far had not tried to kill her or take advantage of the fact that she knew absolutely nothing about the world she tumbled right into. She may as well have been born yesterday with her lack of fundamental knowledge. How many other vault dwellers were out there from her era? How many other people were running around as ghouls from her time?

Nora could feel her thoughts starting to settle; they often did at night when she wasn't on the move. Sometimes they were back with Nate and Shaun and her life before-her, studying diligently to finally pass the Bar exam and put her law degree back to use, and he was thinking of getting back into the civilian workforce. Nate had wanted to become a personal trainer, but was also conflicted by his dream to run a bakery. Nora chuckled, remember that she had told him that at least one would make sure that his customers came back for the other. She on the other hand would have such a time striding into the State building as the city's only lawyer with an undercut. Nevermind that she had hair whiter than most of the judges', they'd ask her to present so many forms of ID to be sure she wasn't some crust punk impersonating a law official. Now, however, it seems her type of haircut would probably get her past a group of raiders unscathed. It didn't, of course, and Nick had a few more holes in his duster to show for it. She would patch them up if she ever came across a sewing kit. Maybe Codsworth knew a thing or two about tailoring.

"Ha. Oh, if Nate could see me now," she spoke aloud. She often toyed with the idea of what he might think of his wife toting around a pistol and a crude machete. Not that neither of them have never owned or used guns before, but they had decided to give them away to their relatives once Shaun had been born. She wanted to keep them in the family until he was of age to understand and be taught gun safety, but she supposed that was neither here nor there now. Two centuries have passed, yet there was virtually no time between waking up that morning to attend an event at the Veteran's hall and waking up to watch her husband being shot seven feet in front of her. One of Shaun's first memories would involve a gun and watching what happens when you don't have one to defend your family. He would face the cruelty of the world before he could cognitively understand it. And watch his father, the strongest person she knew, wasted in the space of a breath.

His last words?

"You're not taking Shaun!"

Nora closed her eyes and inhaled sharply. Of course those were his last. The memory had been re-lived to the point that she feared the tears have stopped coming for it. A dedicated father, right up to end. The memory was always accompanied by the same impulsive question: Would he have been shot if he had just complied?

She snorted, heavily doubting it would have ever gone that way. Absolutely not. Not my Nate. About four nights of every seven, she was dedicated to resurfacing what she could, recounting everything for later record at her home terminal.

"Nathaniel Oliver Pendragon. US Army, 2nd Battalion, 108th Infantry Regiment. Decorated Sino-American War Veteran." Nora paused, grasping to remember what he had been decorated for, but nothing came immediately to mind. Had they really talked about the things he did for the war? She bit her lip, thinking hard about why she had never bother to ask. I... guess I thought I had more time. Nora hiccuped, and realised that this was a new thought, and it was threatening to reopen the closing wound if she let it. A familiar tightness she hadn't felt in weeks was beginning to form in her chest, and inhaled sharply. More time. More time with Nate and my son. My family.

She shook her head to stave off the strange guilt she felt about surviving. I will not blame myself for this.

"Nate Pendragon. Son. Brother. Uncle. Great-great-grandson. Father. Friend." Her throat caught for a moment. "Best friend." The moon was rising in the sky now, and her mind took advantage of the time to try and go through a delayed grieving process. Nora knew she would have to find a way to repay the Oberland ladies for taking Nick off of her hands for the night; she was solaced to not have anyone see her in such a state.

Shaun was waiting on her. Garvey was counting on her. Dogmeat looked up to her. Codsworth worried over her. And Nick?

Nora dimmed the lantern and allowed herself this peace of mind, waiting for whatever dredge to float up to the surface. What of Nick? I'm the one that needs him. I'm a client, and the case is all there is to it. She heard another a smidgen of inflection from his gravelly voice and another shriek of laughter from one of the sisters. She wondered if this was considered time they were spending was off the clock and how many caps she owed him. Maybe... maybe they'd get a good haul of junk and she wouldn't have to worry about that. She'd heard Bunker Hill was The big trading hub, so maybe she'd have collected enough to insured his fees would be covered by the time they rolled through. Luckily for her, it didn't seem like he was the type to expect sexual favours in lieu of payment.

She wasn't even sure synths thought about those things. Codsworth sure as hell didn't.

...Right?

"I'm a synth. Synthetic man. All the parts, minus a few red blood cells." That's what he'd told her. What did he mean by "all the parts?" Did she really need to know what that means in case he needed an organ transplant, or was that sarcasm? Nora grimaced in frustration, coming to terms with how little she could claim she knew for certain; she absolutely hated this sudden uneasement. Ugh. Unknown factors.

What did she know about synths? What did she know about Nick Valentine?

This wasn't the first night she'd mulled the thought of her partner over in her head, and every night she remained with the same unanswered questions. She thought about investing some waking hours in talking with him about this, but the opportunity was usually interrupted by their surroundings. And Mama Murphy had said she could trust him to help. But hell's bells, Mama Murphy was also on some serious drug-induced trip when she said that. Her past experiences have led her to know the words of someone under the influence are not the best advice, but to her credit the old woman hadn't been wrong either.

Considering she didn't have any way to research synths and what they're about, Nora put her focus on exactly what made Nick Valentine, well, Nick Valentine. He was an early model synthetic human-robot hybrid. He didn't just have made up memories or programmed traits, but rather he ran off of the memories and personality of a person who had lived during her time and volunteered for the procedure. Did Nick know why he did this? Maybe she might have seen the real Nick Valentine with her own eyes once upon a time. Getting a cruller or sitting in a squad car or even pushing a shopping cart at the Super Duper Mart picking up Salisbury Steaks for dinner, she thought, imagining a more humanly-looking Nick doing all of these things.

He never really said when he came out of the trash heap, so to know how long he's been roaming the Commonwealth is uncertain. For all she knew, he could have only been working a circuit for a year and barely knew anymore than she did. He had enough of a reputation to run a business but still managed to get himself into situations that might be a little too much for him. His secretary, Ellie, had been worried that since he was the dangerously reckless type, he would continue taking on cases that would probably put him in an early...

...grave? Do you bury synths or just sort of throw them in the incinerator? Nora chewed on the thought. Could you transfer the idea of one into another unit and have them, essentially, live forever? Moreover, while she was on the subject, could she ever do something like that?

She wrinkled her nose. Having woken up from a sleep that outlasted everyone she had ever known, she could say with absolute certainty that immortality was grossly overrated.

Anyway, another thing was that Nick didn't sleep, and she was still adjusting to the idea that he would watch her while she did. Now whether he actively observed her or passively kept a lookout was another yet unknown that that was worrisome. Perhaps she could give him a bit more credit, as it's been this long and she hasn't woken up with a pair of cement shoes and a knife in the back. He also hasn't, er, exposed himself to her in any weird way, she's never woken up to him staring at her, and he kept a generously respectful distance away from her person at all times. She had never really felt uncomfortable around him as a direct cause of something he said or did. In fact, most of her discomfort was caused by her lack of synth understanding. Yeah, Nick had a mouth on him and could definitely shoot back a clever zinger without trying, but he was never intentionally mean towards her, and often talked about giving people a hand.

Well, when they talked. Neither of them said much on the road, and Nora was too lost in her own thoughts to really offer up much to say. They would go hours without speaking until one of them felt like they were being watched and motioned for the other to be on guard. She was glad he could read body language and she only had to crouch or draw her weapon to get him to do the same. Sometimes he saw the danger first and she would clumsily follow along, unaware of what was going on until a Super Mutant Mutt was biting her in the hip. Nick was very skilled at spotting Raider and Gunner camps while it took huge sacks of rotting meat for her to realise Super Mutants were around. She supposed he had to be good to have lived this long. Outside of this, she'd have to ask him directly about his thoughts. Mostly came with one-liners, but it's not like she asked for complicated or indepth. Maybe she ought to also start asking how things were going between them, too. Being professional about it, of course.

Nora sighed. She always had a problem with being stupidly conflicted for no reason, but there was no handbook on how someone should act when your family is gone and you're forced to rely on the hospitality of strangers in a foreign setting. Anxiety is probably an appropriate thing to have, though.

Nick has not been cruel to you, Nora. He has not betrayed you, lead you to believe that he would betray you, you haven't given him reason to betray you, and is actively looking out for you, remember? He sent you to bed under the guise of helping himself, but you should know by now how sarcasm works.

So just. Let. It. Be. Let it be.

"You'd be shocked how many people I've managed to convince I'm just a really sick Ghoul," she heard him say just now, and once again the girls were laughing. Nora smirked, wondering if he had been flirting with them this whole time.

Bright heart, indeed. She exhaled, finally coming to peace for the night. Now she could sleep. Nora clicked through radio stations on the Pipboy, searching to find that classical station she liked to help her ease into dreamland. Just as she was thinking she could go for a cup of hot tea and other old world luxuries, a deafening BOOM! drummed from above the house. It rattled the floorboards and shook dust down from the exposed rafters from sheer vibrations echoing across the woods.

"'The hell was that?!" one of the voices hollered from outside. She could hear birds fluttering and squawking away angrily in multiple directions. Nora was on her feet and all but threw herself out the window to see what was going on. There was a second, louder, closer, heart-shuddering explosion and she was just in time to get hit with a faceful of searing yellow-green light.

"Good God! 'You catch the plates on that one?" Nora was blinking away inverted colors. She heard one of the girls ("What do you mean by plates?"), but they were barely audible over the tinny ringing in her ears.

"What are you talking about? What happened?!" she shouted down, sounding like she was speaking through a pillow. Trees off in the distance were ablaze, red fingers raking the black sky. A visible divide in the grove allowed gray smoke to billow up, filtering out stars. She looked in other directions to see if anyone else had been attracted to the sound, but when she realised no one was coming, she also supposed no one was stupid enough to go running towards the sounds of danger.

"No way anyone survived that!" Nick hollered as Nora leaned dumbstruck out of the window. He was strangely calm about the entire thing, cigarette still hanging out of his mouth as he spoke. "Though I guess we ought to make sure."

A/N: Hey folks, Charlie here. It took me the better part of an hour to understand how to update an edited chapter, but much thanks to a QQuina for that important bit of insight. I've also decided to take off the [wt] Working Title tag from the name, since I won't be making an effort to change it. It works already, after all. The next installment is pretty much already in the works, but I'll be out of town this weekend and away from a keyboard for the entire time. If you celebrate Christmas, Festivus, or any holiday or non-holiday this winter solstice, have a good one, and I hope you get everything you need. If it's summer where you are or are not celebrating anything at all, also have a good one. I'll see you all on Tuesday.

Stay safe out there.