Disclaimer: All characters and settings belong to Bethesda.

Project Wanderer

Chapter Four: Blue in Green

It was Valentine's Day early evening. A young woman in red swagger coat hurried into a police office. Perfectly curled dark brown locks bounced on her shoulders with each step as she descended a short flight of stairs and headed straight to the information desk. The rapid clicking of her stiletto heels turned the heads of the remaining officers on duty in the precinct.

Aqua blue eyes glanced up and checked the clock hanging on the wall. 6:13pm. She had a date at seven – a very first Valentine's Day dinner with a young man she'd met only a few months ago.

"How can I help you?" a man asked.

She turned and saw a tall man in his thirties approached. The sleeves of his slightly wrinkled white shirt were rolled up to his elbows. She recognized him. Not because of a particularly handsome face or any distinguish features, but his name.

"Detective Valentine," the young woman greeted with a polite smile on her painted lips.

"Yes?" Valentine arched an eyebrow, studying her with his keen eyes.

"I'm Nora Bennett from the district attorney's office. I'm here for the files for the Stanton vs. Laszlo case."

"Ah, yes. I can get 'em for you."

Nora followed the detective further into the office. "You don't remember me, do you? We met at my dad's retirement party last summer."

Valentine took a longer look at her face, then recognition set in. "Bennett! You're old Bennett's kid. Yes, I remember now. You look... different."

"Can't wear shorts to work now, can we?"

"You're with the D.A now, huh?"

"I'm an intern." Nora flashed an easy smile. "All work, little pay."

The detective nodded sympathetically. "That's how everyone starts. Even the judges." He opened one of the many drawers and searched through the folders as he asked, "So how's your old man doin'?"

"Bored," said Nora, scanning the office out of curiosity. Most of the detectives had left. On one particular messy desk, the lamp remained on, and there was a bouquet of flowers sitting by the typewriter. "Sitting at home is driving him crazy."

Valentine chuckled. "Must be it's hard to sit back and relax after chasing bad guys all his life." He pulled out a folder among many and handed it to her. "There you go, kid."

"Much appreciated. I'll bring this to work tomorrow morning. It's nice to see you again."

"Like wise. Before you go..." Valentine waved her to follow him to the desk with the bouquet. He took a notebook and scribbled a phone number on it, then handed it to Nora. "Take this. If you need any help, don't hesitate to call."

"Thank you, sir. I might take you up on that." Her gaze landed on the flowers – a dozen of red roses wrapped in a plain white paper. "But I think you are the one who might need help right now."

He followed her gaze and asked, "How so?"

"The flowers are nice, but something's missing."

The man held the bouquet in his hand and studied it as if it's a piece of evidence. "What's wrong with this?"

"You bought this from the flower stand around the corner, didn't you?"

"How did you know?"

"The white paper. I saw a man buying a bouquet on my here, he was complaining about the same white paper. The owner said they ran out of the usual pink ones. "

"Not bad," said the detective with a small grin. "So what should I do, Miss Bennett?"

"Add a thick red ribbon to it. The flower stand should still have some, but they usually don't give it to you until you ask."

"Red ribbon, huh? All right, if you say so."

"Trust me, the devil's in the details, Detective. Your girlfriend will love it."

The grin on Valentine's face widened a tab. "And how did you know it's for my girlfriend, not my wife?"

Nora gave a pointed nod at the man's left hand. "No ring." Her gaze traveled up to his outfit. "Wrinkled shirt, old coffee stain on your tie."

Valentine laughed. The voice was as warm as the man. "You are Bennett's kid, all right. You sure you don't want to be a detective?"

"And give my mom a heart attack? If I were born with a Y-chromosome, I might follow my dad's footsteps, but..." Nora shrugged, resigned to her fate. "Guess I'll fight my battles on the judiciary side of the system. With words, not guns."

The Great Green Jewel of the Commonwealth was ahead. Painted signs pointed to the one and only entrance. Turrets were set at strategic locations high above. Guards were seen patrolling, wearing old uniforms that had seen better days.

From afar, Deacon saw a guard approaching the rag tag team he'd been following. Hugging the shadows, Deacon quickened his steps until he was within hearing range.

"You from one of those vaults?" the guard asked, eyeing the woman in blue vault suit.

Why, yes, Deacon answered with a high pitched voice inside his head. I wonder what gives me away.

"I'm looking for Diamond City," said Nora without answering the question.

Good. Don't give them any more info than you need.

"It's straight ahead. Follow the signs." The guard's gaze followed the woman's retreating form much longer than he should, and Deacon knew just what exactly he was looking at.

Enjoying the view, pal?

Snorting in mild annoyance, he took a detour and left his target to her own devices for now. As incompetent as the guards could be, she should be safe as long as she stayed within the fortified perimeter.

Deacon entered what used to be the concession stands of the old stadium. From there, he ducked into a hole through a wall and headed into an abandon room lined with lockers, one of which held his own secret stash. He retrieved the DC guard uniform, and quickly changed into it, then quietly moved back into a side alley.

A block down, he saw his target heading his way. Squaring his shoulders, Deacon pulled out the baseball bat and marched down the street as if he had every right to be there. He allowed his posture to relax a bit as he headed to the entrance of Diamond City, looking every bit like a tired guard who was coming back from patrol.

No one ever suspected a thing.

"We were supposed to come here for game four," Nora muttered as she glanced up at the high walls of the stadium. "Nate was so excited when he got the tickets from his former CO."

"Ah, the World Series," Codsworth replied. "Three to nothing lead against Texas, if I remember correctly."

Nora nodded wistfully. "And game four at home. Nothing could possibly take our championship away... Beside a war."

Ahead, she spotted a green statue outside the stadium entrance. The familiar sight brought her some sort of comfort. Decades – no, centuries ago, she had a photo taken by the statue during her very first trip to the ball game as a little girl of six.

Up close, though, the illusion of the pre-war world was shattered by the turret next to the statue.

"Welcome to the Diamond City," said a guard returning from his patrol. "Head on inside."

"I suppose a ticket is not necessary," Codsworth commented with a faint chuckle. "This way, mum."

With a faithful dog at her heels and her only remaining family leading the way, Nora entered what used to be Fenway Park. What greeted her was a yelling match between a plump, middle-aged man in suit and a slender dark-haired young woman in rusty red coat.

"You devious, rabble-rousing slanderer!" yelled the man, his face red with anger. "The... the level of dishonesty in that paper of yours! I'll have that printer scrapped for parts!"

"Oooh, that a statement, Mr. McDonough?" the reporter huffed and taunted. "'Tyrant mayor shuts down the press?'"

Politician versus reporter. Some things never changed. As a lawyer, Nora had more than her share of bad experiences with both.

Before Nora could quietly sidestepped the circus, the report caught a glimpse of her and told the mayor, "Why don't we ask the newcomer?"

How about no?

The woman pressed on, "You support the news? Cause the mayor's threatened to throw free speech in the dumpster!"

"I support the First Amendment," said Nora in a well-rehearsed flat tone, her lawyer's voice. Annoyed with the situation, she couldn't help but quickly added, "Although my favorite is the Fifth."

Somewhere, Nora heard a faint laugh in the background. Her reply seemed to temporarily throw the report off, long enough for the mayor to seek the opportunity to turn the tide.

The mayor quickly approached with an apologetic, yet fake smile. "Oh, I didn't mean to bring you into this argument, miss. No no no... You look like Diamond City material." He waved his arms and presented his town with an overly jolly tone, "Welcome to the great green jewel of the Commonwealth. Safe. Happy. A fine place to come, spend your money, settle down. Don't let this muckraker here tell you otherwise, all right?"

The reporter snorted. "Greatest house of cards in the Commonwealth... until the wind blows."

Pointedly ignored the comment, the mayor coughed and focused on Nora. "Now, was there anything particular you came to our city for? We have the finest restaurants, shops for all your needs, and a house available. Talk to my security if you are interested."

"I'm looking for a missing person," said Nora as calm as she forced herself to be. Yet her heart started to beat wildly inside her chest. "My baby boy. Shaun. He's less than a year old."

"Wait..." the reporter interrupted, for once solemn and serious, "your son's missing?"

Nora nodded. "He's been kidnapped."

"Oh god." The reporter scowled at the mayor. "You hear that, McDonough? Is Diamond City Security just going to stand by while a mother, searches for her infant son, all on her own?"

"Don't listen to her," said the mayor to Nora. "While I am afraid that our security team can't help following every case that comes through, I'm confident you can find help here. Diamond City has every conceivable service known to man. One of our great citizens can surely find the time to help you."

"This is ridiculous!" the reporter snapped. "Diamond City Security can't spare one officer to help?" She stepped up to the bigger man and demanded, "I want the truth, McDonough! What's the real reason security never investigates any kidnappings?"

"I've had enough of this, Piper!" warned the mayor, his cheerful facade instantly turned dark. "From now on, consider you and that little sister of yours on notice!"

"Yeah, keep talking, McDonough!" the reporter yelled after the retreating man. "That's all you're good for!"

Nora noticed the guards around merely watched the scene with little to no interest. It was as if they were forced to watch a rerun of the same old show.

Huffing, the reporter turned her attention back to Nora with a tired smile. "A big Diamond City welcome from the mayor. You feel honored yet, Blue?"

"Blue?"

"Your vault suit. And your eyes- Not that I'm staring or anything."

"Nora." She extended a hand which the reporter took.

"Piper Wright. Reporter, Editor in Chief, and owner of Publick Occurrences. The only newspaper in Diamond City." Piper quickly scanned her twice and declared, "I have an idea about an article you'd be perfect for."

"An article?" Nora resisted a frown. "Sorry, but I don't have time for that."

"Right, your son's missing..." Piper thought for a very quick moment then offered, "How about this? I'll help you find your son. In return, I want an interview. Your life story in print. I think it's time Diamond City had a little outside perspective on the Commonwealth." She finished by flashing a charming smile. "So... what do you say?"

"It's always nice to have more friends, mum," Codsworth commented gently.

"All right. I'm in," Nora agreed. "But first, I need to find my boy."

"And I know just the person you should talk to. Come on, Blue, I'll show you the way." Piper leaded the way into the stadium. She paused at the top of the stairs and showcased the settlement. "The 'green jewel'. She's a sight, isn't she? Everyone who's anyone in the Commonwealth is from here, settled here, or got kicked out of here. A big wall, some power, working plumbings, schools, and some security goons are what make Diamond City the big monster it is. Heh. Love it or hate it."

The hustle and bustle of city life was shrunk down to fit inside a baseball stadium. The once green field was now filled with mismatched metal shacks forming a giant maze. People weaved around the tiny alleys in between buildings, going on about their daily lives.

"I can't believe they turned the staduim into... this..." Nora muttered to herself as she headed down the long flight of stairs.

"You've been here before?"

"Last month. I came here with husband-" Nora stopped herself. No, it wasn't last month.

"Wait." Piper turned to her. "Last month? I thought you're from the vault. You know, the suit, dead giveaway."

"I'm not from the vault," said Nora with a bitter taste in her mouth. "I was only there for less than half an hour before they..."

"They, what?" Piper prompted, her hazel eyes were as keen and sharp as any reporter Nora had encountered.

"...Before they put us in cryogenic pods. My family and I were frozen. For two hundred years."

"Two hundred years?" Piper stopped dead in her tracks so quickly she almost stumbled down the stairs.

"Two hundred and ten years," Codsworth corrected.

"Are you saying you were alive before the War?" the reporter fired a quick question, then another. "You saw everything before they blasted it into pieces?"

"Right before my eyes," said Nora quietly. "I saw the mushroom cloud in a distance just before the elevator took us into the vault."

"Oh my god!" Piper grabbed the older woman by the arms as if to see if she's real. "'The Woman Out of Time.' I cannot wait to write this article!"

"Miss Piper," said Codsworth, "I believe we have a more urgent matter to attend to."

"Sorry. This way, let's go talk to Nick. If your son is out there, Nick can find him. A word of warning, though. Don't let his appearance scare you. Nicky's a good guy, one of the few good ones left here in the Diamond City."

"I won't judge the book by the cover."

"This isn't any cover you've ever seen, Blue. Nick is... Well, he's a synth."

Frowning slightly in confusion, Nora asked, "What's a synth?"

Piper arched an eyebrow up high. "Right. You're from the good ol' pre-war. Oh boy... Ready to hear about the Commonwealth's biggest boogeymen?"

Of all the people his walking pre-war relic could possibly meet.

Piper Wright. The infamous trouble maker. That woman had a nose of a hound, and an unhealthy amount of curiosity that could get her killed. And judging from the volume of her voice and the excitement on her face, the self-made journalist had just found the scoop of her lifetime.

The Woman Out of Time.

Deacon scowled at the upcoming title of Piper's article. Soon enough every one would know there's a 200-year-old woman walking among them – one who was not a ghoul, but a perfectly preserved genuine pre-war smooth-skin with a full head of hair, a cute nose, pouty lips, and both ears still very much intact.

So much for being inconspicuous.

Well, at least that nosy reporter was pointing his target to the right direction: Nick Valentine.

The two women headed to the other side of the market place. One in red, one in blue. Neither knew they were being watched by a man in guard uniform. Together with a Mr. Handy and a dog, they turned the corner and disappeared.

As much as it bothered him to lose his visual on his target, Deacon forced himself to settle down. They'd be back soon enough, all he could do was wait.

As he made his way to the noodle shop, a boy suddenly bowled past, yelling, "You can't catch me!"

Right behind the boy, a sandy haired girl gave chase. She shot Deacon a very quick look, then pursued the other kid down into an alley.

Deacon watched the kids for a second then settled at the noodle bar. "Hey T-bot, what's new?"

"Nani-ni shimasu-ka?"

"The usual. I'm starvin'."

"Piper?" A man in patched trench coat and fedora hat spared a quick glance at the vistors, then turned his attention back to the files on his desk. "No, I can't talk about my latest case no matter how many times you ask."

"Not here for a scoop, Nick," said Piper, leading the way into the cluster-filled office. "We have a mother here looking for her missing baby."

That made the detective looked up from his files. A synthetic man, Piper had warned her. But Nora was not expecting this. A man with grayish complexion and glowing yellow eyes, part of the synthetic skin and flesh on the both sides of his face had fallen off, metallic jaws and wires underneath could be seen in plain view.

What threw Nora off completely was not his appearance, but his voice. She'd heard it before...

"Missing kid, huh?" said the detective. "Well, you've come to the right place. The name's Valentine."

Then, Nora remembered. "...Detective Valentine."

"Yes?" said Nick, casting a curious look at her.

"Nick Valentine?" Nora repeated. It couldn't be the same Valentine she once knew, but this man sounded just like him... "Nicolas Valentine? The lead detective of Operation Winter's End?"

The detective stood up so fast that the chair fell back onto the floor. "How did you know? Who are you?" He stepped closer to study her, wary but curious. "You look awfully familiar..."

"Nora Taylor, DA's office," she replied automatically out of habit. "I was Nora Bennett when we met. But that was..."

"Bennett?" Nick repeated that name, then looked up sharply in realization. "My god, it's you! Detective Bennett's kid. You're still alive?"

"It's really you, isn't it?" She stared at the man in trench coat in utter confusion. It was the same Valentine, no doubt, for he remembered her father. Yet, this man was a synth. "But... how?"

"That's the question I want to ask you. Come," Nick beckoned and waved at an empty chair by one of the desks. "Have a seat. We have a lot to talk about."

–

By the time Deacon finished his noodle, the sandy-haired girl returned and claimed the empty stool next to him. "Mister D."

"Hey, lil sis."

The girl snorted to cover her smile. "I'm not your sister."

"Right you are," said Deacon. "Hungry?"

"For caps."

"The usual, then." Deacon turned to the protecton. "Hey T-bot, one nuka-cola for the little lady."

"Gary's wife is missing," the girl mumbled while biting the straw, pretending to drink her cola. "The suspicious middle of the night stuff."

"Who did it?" Deacon asked, taking a sip from his own bottle. "You think it's... well, you know."

"That's what everyone says. Gary quit. He was super angry."

"Huh. Maybe I should pay him a visit."

"Until it cools off, bad idea," the girl chided.

Deacon hid a smile at her reaction. That was only a test, and the kid passed with flying color.

He put a pack of gum drops on the table. "Here. Don't eat it all at once."

"Oh I won't." The girl was quick to grab it and gave it a shake. Satisfied with the amount of noise made by the caps within, she pocketed the candy with an impish grin. "Easy caps."

"Keep it up, sis, and I'll double it next time."

"Later, Mister Doe." The girl left with a spring in her steps, looking as innocent as any wasteland kids could be. Looks, though, could be deceiving.

The girl was one of his many eyes and ears. Men and women, boys and girls, old and young. Known as Mr. Doe to most, Deacon's business connections were well-established. But still, even with his extensive connections, Deacon had yet to find the exact location of the Institute.

But, he wasn't about to give up. Those bastards were out there, somewhere. And his latest find from Vault 111 might just be the break he was looking for. So far, no one had come forth and contacted the vault dweller yet. But the connection had to be there – his target was related to the Institute somehow, and he would dig it up sooner or later.

Out of the corner of his eye, Deacon saw a silvery floating ball gliding across the market place. A step behind was his target and her new friend. Deacon remained at the noodle stand, slowing finishing his Nuka-Cola as the two women headed back to Piper's office.

"Give him some time," said Piper as they walked past him obliviously. "Nick will dig something up. Why don't you stay with us tonight, Blue? It's just me and Nat. My couch is cleaner than any bed at the Dugout Inn. Trust me."

Blue? Deacon almost snorted at that nickname.

It's time to pay his old friend a visit. "Best noodle ever, T-bot." He put some caps on the table. "Stay you."

No one bat an eye when the guard returned to his duty after a well-deserved lunch break. Deacon made his way through the market place and followed the bright pink neon sign. The covered alley was dark, just the way he liked it. With a subtle check over his shoulder to make sure the coast was clear, he quickly disappeared into a threshold and opened the door at the end.

Deacon had an easy grin ready the moment he stepped into the detective's office. "Nick, you old dog. It's been a while, how's business?"

"Well, look what the cat drags in," said Valentine, looking up from his notes. He gave his visitor an once over. "I don't even want to know where you got that outfit."

"What, this?" Deacon gestured to his guard uniform. "Two words: Strip. Poker."

The old synth shook his head, too used to Deacon's antics to take any words from him seriously. "So, to what do I owe this pleasure?"

Wiping his smile off, Deacon sat down by the detective's desk. "Your new client."

Valentine's poker face was impeccable. "I have a few."

"So you have pre-war relics walking into your office all the time?" Deacon leaned closer, resting his elbow on the table. "Look, I know where she's from, and I know she's looking for her son."

The synth merely gave him a leveled stare, as tight-lipped as ever.

"Maybe I can help," Deacon offered with a tone so sincere even he believed himself.

The detective studied him with his keen yellow eyes. "What is it to you?"

Valentine was way too shrewd to fall for most lies. Deacon knew if he didn't put the truth on the table, the man would never budge. Not the whole truth, of course. Not even half.

"I've been following her all the way to Diamond City," Deacon told him.

"Why?"

"A woman in vault suit wandering with a Mr. Handy. A giant yellow 111 on her back. Wouldn't you be curious?"

Valentine's expression didn't reveal a thing. He only prompted, "Go on."

"From what I've seen, she wouldn't last long in the Commonwealth. It's a miracle she made it here."

"That still doesn't explain why you'd even bother to help. She's not a synth."

"I'm doing this on my own, Nick. My boss doesn't even know I'm here."

"You free-lancing now?"

"Things are quiet after... you know, what happened..."

Valentine nodded with a grimace. "Yes, I've heard. It was brutal. Sorry about that."

"We're slowly getting back on our feet. While they're setting things up in our cozy new home, I've some free time." Deacon shrugged. "The truth is... I've always thought we should branch out and help humans too. Sometimes, a little bit of help goes a long way."

"No arguments from me."

Gotcha. If there's one thing Deacon was good at, beside lying, it was reading people.

"You probably know this..." Deacon deliberately shifted in his seat before he continued with just a hint of an embarrass smirk. "I'm a sucker for pre-war things. Books, gadgets."

"Women?"

That's not what he was going for, but Deacon sat back without saying a word, neither confirmed nor denied anything. If that's what Valentine wanted to think, let him.

"Never pegged you as the romantic type," said Nick half-teasingly with a faint chuckle.

That's because I'm not.

Valentine's guard finally was now down, Deacon went in for the kill. "I checked out the vault and saw her husband, Nick. One shot in the chest, poor bastard never had a chance. His pod was right across from hers. That woman saw everything." He paused and used a quieter tone, "...I know what it's like to have a loved one killed in front of you. That's why I want to help."

Valentine studied him for a long moment. Deacon held his gaze steadily behind the sunglasses, never once flinched. Every good lie has some truth in it. And his? It was top-notch.

Eventually, the detective nodded. "All right. Here's what we know..."

Bingo.

"Kellogg." Deacon scowled. "You sure?"

"She didn't hear a name. But bald head, scar across the left eye."

"The description matches," said Ellie Perkins, Valentine's assistant. "Bald head. Scar. Reputation for dangerous mercenary work, but no one knows who his employer is."

The Institute. "Could be a coincidence," said Deacon out loud, although he didn't really believe it.

"There's only one way to find out," said Valentine. "He vanished a while back, his house in town is still empty."

"In the abandoned West Stands," Ellie added. "He had a kid with him. The boy was around ten years old."

"Where's the kid?" Deacon asked.

"Gone," Ellie replied. "No one's seen him since."

"If it's Kellogg," said Deacon after a thoughtful pause, "this is bad, Nick. You're in way over your head, pal."

"So you gonna lend a hand or what?" asked Valentine.

"What's life without a little excitement, right?" said Deacon. "I'm in."

"We should go Kellogg's last known address and see if we can snoop out where he went."

"The sun's still out there," Deacon pointed out. "Best do it while everyone is sleeping."

The detective nodded. "We'll go before sunrise."

"Security doesn't really go to that part of the town," said Ellie. "But you two should still be careful."

"I need to make some preparations," said Deacon, leaving. "I'll be back by dawn. Don't start the party without me."

The sun was slowing sinking when Deacon headed back into the market place. On his way to the one and only exit of the city, Deacon stopped by the store front of Publick Occurrences.

"Get your latest news here!" a dark-haired girl yelled, waving a copy of the paper in her hand. "We expose the truth behind the Institute!"

"A copy here, lil' lady," said Deacon, dropping a cap in the box.

"There you go, Mister." The girl handed him his paper. Natalie Wright, Piper's sister. Unbeknownst to her big sis, little Miss Wright had long established a working relationship with the man she only knew as Mr. Doe.

Deacon scanned the paper as he casually commented, "Heard your sister got a new friend."

"The entire town knows by now. Piper is letting her stay with us, in return she's gonna give us an exclusive interview." Nat flashed a proud grin. "This is gonna be huge!"

Under Piper Wright's watchful eyes, his target should be safe, at least for tonight.

"Keep an eye on her for me, will ya?" said Deacon.

The grin dissipated in the blink of an eye as the girl put her business face back on. "Five caps."

"Five is it, but I want to know everything."

"Deal." The girl hesitated for a bit before she asked, "Hey, Mr. Doe. You think she's really from the vault?"

"Maybe. Maybe not. What do you think?"

Her face scrunched up thoughtfully for a moment. "I think she is. She doesn't look like any of us. She's too... clean."

"Good eye, kiddo. Maybe you have what it takes to be my full-time partner some day."

The girl snorted. "No thanks. If I leave, who's gonna expose the truth? Now, off you go. I've paper to sell."

A/N: Pre-war Valentine = Humphrey Bogart.

Deacon is doing what Deacon does best. Nora is starting to show a little bit of her lawyer side.

This chapter is longer than the previous ones. But compare to the Mass Effect behemoth I've been writing, it's a normal length. Hope it's not too long.

And, if you're waiting for the ending chapter of Trust No One, it's coming. Writing fluffy scene isn't my specialty, so it takes a little longer.

Thanks for reading.

Contact info: gmail – pinoko19, tumblr – pinoko-k.