He holds his Mistress in silence while she cries, as she breaks apart against the support of his arms; knowing he will patiently, gently put her back together again, once her waves of sorrow cease to beat against the shores of the comfort he provides her.
The past month has been one of the strangest, yet most healing of his long, destructive life.
Being employed by someone who could actually see more than blank hatred or utter boredom in his face had been a shock at first, one he had only very rarely encountered before then, and certainly never in an employer.
He hadn't earned his age-old reputation as an emotionless weapon for nothing, after all.
But somehow, she saw what others all around her were blind to. Even when she tried to show them this... other-space, this strange, parallel universe where Charon's emotions could be found, they gave it their best effort, then retreated all too quickly in the face of his seemingly vacant, dead stare.
Where others had only ever seen the death he wields as a honed, merciless weapon, she somehow sees the life beneath his armored facade.
There is no way for him to ever gain true freedom from his contract.
But he thinks, given time under her careful hand, he could become something like free.
It would be enough.
For now, he comforts his Mistress and slowly returns her world to something just to the left of upright and whole.
Exactly where she prefers it.
John's been a bit jittery this entire time, and it's starting to wear on his nerves.
Well, sensor net. Whichever, they're getting worn down.
When Shana eventually does return, eyes rimmed with red lids, John's on his feet the second hers step into the V.I.P. room they currently occupy, Charon right on her heels.
"Hey there, darlin'. Everything alright?" Hancock asks her, as he slots himself next to her, trying to get a good look at her face.
She smiles at him but it's wrong, sad somehow—like he breaks her heart just by being there. She nods anyway, assuring him with a calming hand on his arm. "Yeah, everything's fine." She glances between John and Nick, settling on something close to normal for her expression as she does. "You boys already order?"
Nick dips his noggin. "Sure did. Wasn't sure what you wanted, but John said he's got it covered."
John's already nodding his confirmation. "Yeah, it's all good. Why don't ya have a seat and we'll wait for it all to get here?"
Shana smirks softly and taps John's frock, jiggling what sounds like the mentats tin within.
Hancock lifts a brow at her, glancing down to where she'd tapped, then back up. "Y'sure?"
She bows her head in a single nod, holding the ghoul's gaze steadily.
John tilts his head in a shrug and retrieves what does indeed turn out to be a mentats tin from his inner breast pocket, picking one out of the bunch and handing it to her. He glances to Nick and tosses him a somewhat apologetic look, stating, "She asked," as his excuse in the face of Nick's disapproval.
She stands there, looking at the tiny chem tab between her fingers a mite like it's going to eat her. She palms it, then smiles brightly at John. "You go ahead and sit, I'll... be right with everyone."
John frowns a bit, but nods. "Alright, then." He goes and sits on the couch opposite Nick without complaint, tipping his own mentat dose into his hand before he returns the tin to his coat. He holds onto his chems as if waiting for her to take hers.
The hell's goin' on, here?
Shana turns to Charon, resting a gentle hand on the old ghoul's destroyed cheek and murmurs, "Please watch the door and keep anyone but the food bearer out, when they bring it. I... I need that at my back."
Charon nods quickly. "It will be done." He turns and disappears around the corner, the distinct sounds of the rusty door closing shut behind him following.
When she turns back, there is renewed steel in her spine and stark determination in her eyes. She pops the mentat, not chewing, just sliding it up between gum and cheek, and takes a deep breath. She looks to John first, smiling softly. "John, the first part of this isn't for you. I'm sorry, but... Nicky needs to see me, first. Just stay there and be quiet a minute and let me get this out; I promise, I'll get to you as soon as I can."
Hancock frowns slightly, his confusion evident in his eyes, but he nods his acquiescence, all the same. "Sure, darlin'."
Shana beams her gratitude at him with a beatific smile, then turns to Nick. She looks down at the floor for a few seconds, hands lifting and repeating her nervous motions from weeks ago, and suddenly Nick understands what she'd said to John.
She lifts her eyes to his and begins to sign.
'Nick Valentine,' she spells out, with a smile so full to bursting with adoration, he almost believes she's signing him a love poem, instead of his name, 'I love you.' She signs her nerves again, laughing softly, blushing as she stills herself, expression still full of warmth, but gaining a more serious note as she continues, 'I have loved you for so long, that I hardly remember a time when I did not.'
Nick grins at her like a love-struck fool, utterly obliterated under her tender gaze.
She hesitates, worry quickly worming its way onto her features, hands still poised to sign, the thought unfinished. Eventually, she sucks in a breath, holding it as she signs, 'But there has always been room for more in my heart. And I have always been too afraid to admit it... that I could love more than one person. That I could love more than just you.' She swallows, and releases the breath shakily, taking another. 'But it is true. I have been too much a coward to tell you, but it has to be said because the other one I love is him.'
She points at John, then clasps her hands tightly over her stomach, finished, for now.
Waiting.
Watching Nick.
There is a single, soft knock at the door, followed by another. She purses her lips on a pained, but oddly fond smile as she turns and gets the door, returning the knock before opening it and ushering the knocker inside.
A diminutive ghoul ladened down with a tray full of dishes and glasses of varying sorts precedes her into the room, and she quickly takes the few steps to get around him and bring out the tray stand for him. The moment he slides his hands out from under the tray, she has him in her arms, squeezing him in a hug that he timidly, but affectionately returns.
She presses a kiss to the ghoul's cheek, then backs up enough to look at him, and Nick can see the color rise brightly on the parts of the ghoul's cheek that still exist. "Thank you, Gob. How are you, sweetie?"
Gob, apparently, smiles at her like she's the only person in the room. "You're welcome, Miss Shana. I-I'm good. People like me here. Got yelled at once, but Ham threw 'em out of town and I haven't seen 'em again. It's..." he nods after a moment of apparent thought on it, "it's good, yeah."
Shana grins at him, gingerly cupping his face in her hands, causing his blush to darken even further. "I can't tell you how happy I am to hear that, sweetheart. I had a feeling you'd find a place here you could stand—I'm glad it worked out for you, so glad." She throws her arms around him for a shorter hug, patting his back gently then releasing the—slightly delirious—Gob. "I'd have you stay and chat, but I do believe you're still on the clock?" she reminds, with a proud smile.
Gob snaps out of his delirium quickly, nodding a bit frantically in answer, though there's still a slightly ridiculous, if endearing smile on his face, "Yeah! Yeah, I am, better get back out there, it's gettin' crowded. It was real good to see ya, Miss Shana."
He finally looks at the room's other occupants, though he doesn't seem the least bit surprised by the first one. "You too, Mister Mayor." He looks to Nick once John nods a friendly smile at the jumpy ghoul. "Oh. H-hi there," Gob extends his right hand for a shake, "I'm Gob. You must be Detective Valentine; I've heard a lot about ya."
Nick stands and, before he can make his usual excuse for his metal hand and offer the left, Gob grabs the metal one and shakes it eagerly as he grins at him. "Big fan of your work," He nods his head toward Shana, "Miss Shana's told us all about the cases you solve together, just like the pre-war gumshoes, yeah? Such a treat to meet ya, but I gotta go. Seeya soon, though!"
Nick nods at him just before the ghoul turns to retreat from the room. "Sure thing, pal. Have a good one," he just manages, before Gob smiles brilliantly, waving once and disappearing around the corner, the door closing behind him soon after.
He's left standing next to Shana, turning to look down at her as his mind returns to the occurrences of before their food arrived. One corner of his mouth pinches off to the side in consternation as he ponders what to even think, let alone say. He shakes his head and sighs, retaking his seat. "Let's eat. I'll..." he looks up at her and slowly nods. "I'll think about what you said."
"So, can I talk, now?" Hancock asks, eying them both in turn.
Shana nods. "Sure, yeah. We'll... pick this all up after we eat, I guess."
He sets his unused mentats on the side table next to the couch. "Guess I'll save these, then." He peeks over at Shana as he makes a grab for his food. "Yours gone, yet?"
She shrugs softly, snagging a high-backed chair and dragging it into the middle of everything, facing them, then takes her plate into her lap and sits. "Think it's only about halfway dissolved; it can stay there. Be more effective that way, anyway."
Hancock screws his lips up, wobbling his head in consideration. "Eh, yeah, I guess. Would last longer, for sure. Nowhere near as intense, though."
Shana snorts, spearing a fresh tato wedge with her fork. "Wasn't looking for intense. Just wanted to use it as originally intended, a confidence boost for public speaking and creativity. Didn't do much speaking, granted, but... I needed to get it out, and it helps me do that, so here we are." She shrugs, then stuffs the wedge in her mouth, ending any further possibility of polite converse.
John has no such compunctions about eating politely, asking around the steak stowed in his cheek as he saws up more of it with knife and fork, "Speakin' o' which, wha' di' ya say?"
"John, table manners. And I'm not telling you right now. Maybe in a bit." She shakes her head sharply. "We'll see," she concludes, sneaking a sheepish glance at Nick before returning her attention to her plate.
Hancock shuts his mouth and finishes the food in his mouth. "Sorry," he mumbles, then continues at a more natural volume, "and alright. You should teach me that hand signal thing you got goin' on there someday. Might come in handy at some point, who knows?"
Nick interjects, "Do you even know what it's for?"
John shrugs. "Not sure. Doesn't look like any tactical hand signals I've ever used. It some pre-war thing you learned together?"
Shana shakes her head. "No. Nick taught it to me. Well, partially. Nate taught me the rest. He came back from the front lines stone deaf, then Nora died and he couldn't hear Shaun crying..." Her fingers tighten on her fork and plate for a moment, her eyes staring off into that middle space she loses herself in sometimes, before she takes a sharp breath, straightens, and forces her hands to relax. After a few seconds, she concludes, "I learned from Nicky so I could talk to my brother. He was terrible at reading lips."
John watches her for a minute, after she finishes, then switches to Nick, nodding at him. "And why'd you learn?"
Nick shrugs gently. "I'd always known it. My... Nick's mother was deaf, so he learned at an early age. Grew up using it."
John sucks a bit of something from the front of his teeth, looking for all the world like he's pondering the very meaning of existence. "So it's a visual language to bridge the communication gap between deaf and hearing people. And... other deaf people, I guess?"
Answering nods from both Shana and Nick follow.
"Huh. Well yeah, that does sound useful. There're a couple people I know who might already use something similar, come to think of it. Be nice to talk to them without havin' them write everything down." He smiles softly, then digs into his meal properly, finally going silent.
Nick gives them a few minutes to eat in peace before he reaches out and carefully taps a finger on Shana's arm to get her attention. Once she looks at him, he signs, 'Is all this because of what I brought up earlier? About me and looking for more excitement?'
She's already shaking her head, before he even finishes, quickly replying, 'No, it has nothing to do with that.'
Shana sighs, setting her mostly empty plate on the tray, replacing it in her lap with the glass of whiskey beside it, which she immediately downs two fingers of. "It was John who suggested it, to begin with, actually—right after he figured out I was just as interested in him as he is in me. He told me to seek out my happiness, so I did. He helped me more than you know," she says, peering over at John with a grateful smile as he puts his own plate on the tray, "but he could only take me so far, before I had to walk on my own, for a bit."
She looks to Nick, after setting her glass back on the tray, giving him her full attention. "Neither of us can go any farther on any path until you decide what you... what you want. I'm not going to pressure you one way or the other. You know where I stand. If you want to talk to John or me about anything, feel free to, anytime. But this is how I feel. I love you both, equally."
John's soft gasp draws both their attentions, and he's staring at her like a man long lost in an endless desert, who's now suddenly discovered the way home. He slides to the edge of the couch, hands griping that edge like he's afraid he'll float right off of it if he doesn't.
She grins at him almost shyly, nodding softly. "Yeah, I do. I love you, John."
Finally, it seems his hands can hold him to the couch no longer. He bolts up, his legs carrying him with all due haste to her chair, where he plants one hand against the back beside her head, the other lifting carefully to her jaw, tilting it up toward him so gently that it's almost a suggestion.
By the time the ghoul Mayor's lips reach Shana's, Nick has cataloged several points of great interest to him in this scene of romance, strife, and relief.
There is indeed a deep, timeless kind of love between the two lip-locked individuals in the room. It's as unavoidable and undeniable as his own feelings for her.
It's also obvious they are both trying to hold back on his account, and something in that attempt endears them both to him immensely.
And, despite his feelings for her, the spike of jealousy he'd expected to feel at the sight of her kissing John is... really not much harsher than a slight nudge.
Huh.
As these facts organize themselves in his mind, he begins to come to something resembling a solution, somewhere in the rear banks of his processors.
When John eventually manages to pry himself away from her, with a love—and lust—addled grin, Nick believes he has the answer.
"I love you too, sunshine," John tells her, and Nick thinks the pet name more than appropriate, as the smile she gives John could light up a thousand rooms and still have plenty left over. Her hand strokes the ghoul's cheek lovingly, then rests on his neck as he presses his brow to hers, the brim of his hat lifting against the top of her head, but neither caring a whit as they steal this moment of perfect solace.
She budges him back softly, a smirk teasing her lips as she glances aside at Nick, then pointedly at John.
He seems to take the hint, and with a final peck on her lips, then forehead, he retreats back to his couch. Naturally, he then proceeds to take all three mentats, though he does tuck them between cheek and gum, as she did, rather than his usual method of just chasing the high.
Little as Nick approves of taking them, to begin with, he's at least a little bit mollified by the attempt at metering things to something slightly reasonable. He huffs a small sigh, finally deciding to speak. "I... may have a suggestion, for all this." He peeks between the two, finding both of them watching him with a laser-like focus. He swallows a bit nervously, but charges ahead anyhow, "Maybe... maybe a trial period. Nobody has to make any guarantees, but, an honest attempt could be made at it, at least."
He sighs, reaches back to rub his data ports in unease. "We'd need to make... rules, boundaries, some sort of... understanding of how it all fits together. Need to figure out how everything works. It'll take a whole lot of adjustment, and I'm really not sold on any of it actually working, but... I can't exactly renege on my offer now, not without being a hypocrite, anyway. So... I'll give it a shot, but I'm not making any promises, beyond doing my best to give it an honest try. That's the best I can offer."
"I think that's more than we were hoping for, to begin with," John quietly provides, "so I'd say that offer's more'n fair. Not sure what other offer you were talkin' about reneging on, though."
Nick glances to Shana, grimacing slightly before he reluctantly answers, "I'd told her if she needed to find something... someone more exciting once in a while, I'd understand. That I just wanted to know about it ahead of time, but I'd... I'd understand. I didn't expect her to go all-out on the idea, but... it seems this was something planned long before I brought that up."
Shana dips her head, confirming his words. "Yeah, this has been in the works for..." she looks to John with a slight frown, "what, a little over a month, now?"
John nods after a few seconds. "Yeah, that sounds about right."
She turns back to Nick. "I honestly wasn't even sure if you'd consider the idea. I just..." she trails off, her words failing her.
Hancock picks up her slack easily enough. "She told me she couldn't drop you for what we figured out was between us. Said I wouldn't like the woman she became if she tried to force it. Said no matter what you were up to, whatever deal you had goin' on, she couldn't just ignore what she felt for ya. She was willin' to wait—to make us both wait— for your decision on your part in this whole thing."
Nick frowns, squinting his confusion at John at first, then sliding his scrutiny between the two of them, alternating. "'Willing to wait'? You mean you two haven't... during that entire month?"
John's lifted brows and slow head shake are all the confirmation he really needs, but Shana takes it a step further.
"I didn't feel right doing anything with half my heart missing," she tells him firmly, if a bit bashfully, folded hands fidgeting in her lap.
Nick feels sure his heart would be full to bursting if he still had an organic one. As it is, his coolant has been pumping overtime through metal and silicone and plastic alike during this entire encounter, and it's patently obvious to him that it's not nearly enough to cope with it all. What has he ever done to deserve this dame? Crazy as the entire situation is, vexing and confounding as his feelings on it all are, he wouldn't even have considered the idea, if she had been any other woman. If he didn't know her so well... if he couldn't see the damage she hid in plain sight, just like he does...
Maybe that's it. Maybe he really hasn't done anything to deserve her—maybe her damage only matches his just well enough that together, they form one-half of a functioning heart. Maybe, he thinks, trailing his eye's aim to Hancock as he mulls it over, her choice of partner for fitting the other half together with isn't so strange or random as he'd thought. After all, who else wears their damage as loudly as they do, but John Hancock?
It makes a maddening kind of sense, when he sits back and really takes it all in.
A maddeningly perfect kind of sense.
