Nick was in trouble.
As of yesterday, there had been eight days until Allen would be going to check back in with the Railroad and nothing else remained on Allen's list of loose ends. Apparently, Allen had resolved to spend some time in Sanctuary hills, sparing with Cait, teaching Piper how to shoot straight, and tinkering with his guns. The usual vacation things.
But then Nick had arrived.
When Nick got to Sanctuary Hills, Allen was, technically, sparring with Cait. It was more like a lesson, as Allen was deflecting Cait's strikes with ease and giving tips along the way. Piper was next in line, while Nick was waiting for a chance to talk with Allen.
"You rely too much on your strength." Allen said, redirecting a haymaker.
"Worked so far," Cait argued, getting rather winded.
"It works on raiders and thugs." Allen explained getting in close and slapping Cait (he hadn't used a closed fist yet). "You need to be smart, don't block, redirect. Don't push through, go around."
"Don't see the point." Cait gasped. Allen redirected another punch, shifted a few steps and struck Cait in the side; it was a powerful enough strike that Cait was knocked flat.
"The point," Allen said, helping Cait up, "Is that if you can hit a vulnerable point with all your strength, then the fight's over no arguing."
"Too foofy for my tastes," said Cait scornfully, drinking from her bottle of water.
"My foofiness knocked you on your ass, a sentence I've never said before."
"Really?" Piper asked from the sidelines "Not even in Amsterdam 2071?"
"What happened in Amsterdam 2071?" Nick asked, not currently in on the budding inside joke.
"A lot." Allen responded with a blush.
"So far it's safe to assume that there was kidnapping that went wrong, he made contact with a friendly organization, and he hooked up Emogene Cabot." Piper recited.
"So far?" Nick said, requesting clarification. "I'm assuming there's more to this story."
"Is there a reason you're here, Nick?" Allen asked, trying to change the subject.
"Actually, yes," Nick answered, reaching into his coat and pulling out a file. "I have a case and could use a little help."
"Got it, just let me wash up."
Nick was in Allen's dining room, he had just explained to Piper that this case was a bit personal and he wanted to tackle it alone, or alone with Allen.
Piper probably guessed that Nick was reopening his Eddie Winter file, but she complied, and left.
"So, what's this case?" Allen asked, walking into his house, and grabbing the file as Nick handed it to him
"Eddie Winter," Nick answered, watching Allen's head snap up. "Heard of him?"
"Mob boss, worst of the worst," Allen recalled, "I knew the head of the taskforce formed to take him down. Pleasant enough guy, bit of an idealist"
"That saves a lot of time."
"Speaking of time, what kind of case are you on that involves Winter?"
"There's this theory that Eddie started a radiation experiment to help extend his life, so he could live forever even if the bombs fell." Nick explained.
"A ghoul?" Allen clarified.
"Maybe."
"So he's still alive?"
"Maybe."
"What do we know?" Allen demanded, sick of 'maybes'.
"Eddie Winter set up shop in a vault underneath a subway shop, could only be opened from the outside, and only with a particular code."
"Any other way in?" Allen asked, flipping through the files.
"None. Lucky for us, Winter's arrogance knew no bounds. He sent out a bunch of holotape messages to his criminal associates, all with incriminating evidence but more importantly with a number. Ten holotapes total." Nick explained, taking out the files he used as a reference
"So, you find these tapes, you find the code, and find out whether Winter is still kicking. Any leads on where these tapes are?"
"They were kept separate so that if Eddie tried to get them back, there'd be only so much he could do."
"So then I'm betting there's one at every damn law-related building in the Commonwealth." Allen said, pulling up the map on his pipboy.
"Look, Allen, I know I'm asking for a lot here," Nick started his apology, "So we don't have to do this right away, or even all at once. Eddie is either a ghoul or corpse, either way he's not going anywhere." Nick meant what he said, but a part of him was hoping they'd leave tomorrow and be done soon.
"This little adventure of ours will take us all over the Commonwealth," Allen mused, "Boston, outskirts of the glowing sea, hell even Quincy…if we're going to do this, we need to do it right."
"How's that?"
"Arm up, walk soft, might even need a couple of stealth boys." Allen listed.
"I've got no issues taking this slow." Nick said, doing his best to mean it.
"Good, we move out tomorrow morning. We'll make stops along the way. I've got a cache of stealth boys at Oberland, might make Quincy easier."
Allen and Nick parted for the night. When Nick had gone, Allen updated Piper on his plans and Piper, for one, was thrilled that Allen wouldn't be running off into the night halfcocked.
The next morning it was discovered (via a note that read "gone hunting") that Allen ran off into the night halfcocked. Which brings us to why Nick was in trouble.
"Well what did you think was going to happen?" Piper shouted, throwing the note in Nick's face.
"I told him there wasn't a deadline, I offered to help." Nick defended himself, not giving an inch.
"You handed him the worst criminal in his age on a silver platter, and you thought he'd take it easy?" Piper was pissed, obviously.
"That's what he said he'd do."
"And you believed him?"
"That's a little harsh." Nick said; he had come to trust Allen recently. "Weren't you two inseparable when you first met?"
"That was then." Piper admitted sheepishly.
"What's changed?" Nick said, taking the offensive. "Because, the way I see it, he's done nothing that deserves our skepticism, he's built the Minutemen from nothing, he's forgoing the Brotherhood for the Railroad, and he's shown nothing but good judgement."
"In everything except his personal safety," Piper explained, "because I remember him breaking his own hand to get out of handcuffs. I remember him running off to confront Kellogg, alone, and coming back barely alive. He has no regard for his own safety."
"That's ironic coming from you." Nick accused, "Because I was there when you got poisoned, the first time. I was there when a crooked guard started taking shots at you, and I was stuck watching when you were almost executed by the Cult of Atom."
"That's different," Piper muttered, losing steam.
"How?" Nick demanded. Piper didn't have a response yet, so he went on. "Because he's always come back alive. How is that any different from what you or I do?"
"Because he's trying to get himself killed." Piper had finally calmed down, now sounding only tired. "Nick, he's not doing this because it's right."
"He's certainly not doing it for the caps."
"That would be better. Nick, he's doing this because he doesn't know anything else. He fights because he can, he fights for causes we agree with by coincidence - if someone like him was on the side of the Brotherhood, what would your opinion of him be? You have too much faith in him."
"You don't have enough. Remember what you said to me 'He's a pre-war relic, his wife has been killed and his son stolen. There's bound to be a few things that don't click.' He just needs time."
"It's been months!" Piper exclaimed.
"Losing the love of your life isn't something you just get over," Nick said, seeming lost in memory "Losing your son isn't a temporary thing. As long as there's a loose string, he'll be pulling and pulling." Nick had to fight to not lose himself in fragments of memory, memories of Jennifer Lands, memories he had no right to have, but had anyway.
"You're right, Nicky," Piper sighed, "But I'm still pissed that Blue ran off on his own."
"Beat him up when he gets back," Nick said, deflecting blame, "I'll help."
"Think we'll be enough?" Piper joked.
"Probably not." Nick replied.
"Best stick to yelling then, he responds well to that."
There was no yelling, because when Allen returned to Sanctuary Hills, thirty-six hours later, there was an intervention waiting for him. It was meant to address how Allen needed to take his friends more seriously, trust them, fight side by side with them. But with how little time it took Allen to come back, it turned into another conversation entirely.
"Blue, what are you using?" Piper demanded. Allen hadn't been back for long, just long enough to hand Nick the tapes, and for Piper to start asking questions.
"Mentats, one dose every eight hours." Allen answered honestly. "Well within U.S army regulations."
He almost lied. But he knew better, Piper would find out, and the lie would be worse than the crime.
"Give them to me." Piper demanded.
"What?" Allen exclaimed. "Why?"
"We've been over this, this is a bad habit to form and I'm not letting you go down that road." Piper said, hand still held out expectantly.
"It's not a habit, Piper, it's a tactic." Allen justified.
Piper argued, "One every eight hours for a day and half without sleep sounds like a habit."
"Look, Allen," Nick piped up, "we're not trying to bust your chops or anything like that."
Nearby, Preston cleared his throat before speaking. "The fact of the matter is that these little excursions you go on are dangerous," he explained, "and nobody's invincible."
"Don't be nice, Preston," Piper scolded, "Call them what they are, benders"
"You think I'm some kind of addict?" Allen asked, insulted.
"Yes, Allen," Piper scathed, "I think you're an addict. Maybe not to chems, but you are an addict, looking for the next fix, the next job. All of that without any regard for your personal safety."
"That sounds like the opposite of a problem." Allen fought.
"You're worth more to us alive, General." Preston said.
"Bullshit," Allen growled, as though it explained everything, "Bullshit."
"How?" Nick asked. "How are you better off doing all this charging off halfcocked, popping Mentats like gum?"
Allen turned his back on his friends, concealing what little parts of him weren't hidden by his attire and bandana.
"Who do you think I was?" It was a rhetorical question. "Back before the cryosleep, before the bombs?"
"I don't…" Piper started before being interrupted.
"Because this is what I did, I was a spy." Allen ranted, "I risked my life, I went on ops, and sometimes I popped Mentats. In a different world, with different rules, maybe I could have afforded to change. But here, now, I don't have that luxury." Allen finally turned around, "Now here's the thing - whoever I am now, the details aren't relevant. I help, I save lives, maybe I'll die in the process but isn't that the point?"
"The point is helping people." Piper retorted.
"Really? Because I met Preston," Allen pointed to the Minuteman, "when he was making a last stand." Allen pointed again, "Nick was a hostage probably not going to live out the week. And, you, Piper," Allen let his hand fall to the ground, "'Shot at, poisoned, nearly executed by the Cult of Atom.'" He quoted all the things he'd heard before.
"Just because I do things alone and differently doesn't mean it's wrong. If you have a problem with it, then walk away." It was an ultimatum that Allen never wanted to give, but he was sick of being second guessed.
Piper walked up to Allen and promptly slapped him.
"I'm going home. If you find a story worth sharing, let me know." Piper said solemnly before turning and walking away.
Allen looked to Preston, who just stood up straighter, and saluted.
"I'll follow you into hell, General, this doesn't' change that."
Nick walked up to Allen and shook his hand. "I was wrong about you once, I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt."
"Thank you." Allen said, ignoring the sting of his cheek. "Ready to take Winter down?"
"You sure?" Nick asked, surprised that Allen was willing to get right back to work.
"There's still a job to do."
Allen and Nick were gone for three days. On the second day, Cait nearly died of an overdose. It was luck that saved her, luck that Preston was a mother hen and made sure everyone was up by a certain time, luck that a Minutemen patrol with a medic was nearby, luck that the medic knew that Addictol and Psycho in equal measures was a good way to keep a person alive through a Psycho overdose. If you browse a history book, you might realize that "luck of the Irish" was mostly bullshit, but Cait was damn lucky to be alive, luckier still that by the time she woke up Allen was back.
Cait woke up on a bed in the "hospital room," as it was affectionately called. Allen was sitting in an uncomfortable metal chair near the door.
"Hey," Cait groaned out.
"Hey" Allen said, standing up, "Need some water?"
"Could go for some whiskey." Cait said, sitting up.
"We're out of whiskey." Allen pulled a cooler open and brought out a bottle of water, "Preston drank all of it. You gave him a good scare."
"Not you?" Cait asked, accepting the water and drinking slowly.
"I know you too well, you're not gonna die of an overdose."
"How am I gonna die?" Cait asked between sips.
"In a blaze of glory with the whole world watching."
The duo were silent for some time, an hour or two passed but Allen didn't go anywhere. He just leaned against a wall and said nothing. Finally, Cait spoke up.
"I need your help."
"Anything." Allen declared.
"Thanks, I just really need someone to have my back here." Cait wasn't one for shows of emotion, this was probably the best she could do. "This was a long time comin', with all the Psycho I shoot."
"It never seemed like you did that much." Allen commented. He knew about Cait's habit; he had assumed it was like his own Mentat deal, as he had only ever seen her shoot up in a "Do or Die" scenario.
"I've hidden it well, I didn't want to lose a friend 'cause I was some kinda junky." Cait was forlorn.
"I don't walk away from people, Cait." Allen said. "Admittedly, I don't always chase after them, but I don't walk away."
"Damn it," Cait whispered. "I need to get this shite out of me" She said louder.
"I'm guessing this isn't as simple as an Addictol."
"The Psycho's too ingrained, the withdrawal might just kill me, even with Addictol."
"Any other suggestions?"
"There's supposedly a vault somewhere, Vault 95," Cait explained, "I heard that they had someway t' help people get clean in there."
"I'm familiar with the technology." Allen said, standing up. "I even know the location."
"How?"
"Magic." Allen evaded. "But are you sure you can make the trip?"
"This isn't my first OD" Cait said, throwing the covers off and standing up. "After a few, you know how to shrug them off."
"In couple of days you'll never have another." Allen promised, handing Cait her shotgun.
"Feels damn good to hear you say that."
The trek to Vault 95 and its subsequent clean room was not easy. Gunners were making camp in the Vault. Usually Allen and Cait had fun taking on Gunners, it was good loot and just enough of a challenge to get a good workout in, but today the mood was somber and no one was salvaging. Eventually, they made it to the clean room.
"So, this is it…" Cait said, somewhere between a statement and question.
"This is it." Allen confirmed. He was staring at the chair in front of them, surrounded by medical arms and equipment.
"You said you were familiar with the tech? What's goin' to happen to me?" Cait asked.
"Are you sure you want to know?"
"I have to know." Cait replied sourly.
"Well first, you'll sit in the chair." Allen said, motioning for Cait to do just that. She did.
"Once in the chair, you'll latch yourself in."
Cait nodded and clamped her feet and left hand, Allen did the same to the left. "When I initiate the purge, the syringes near your neck will do two things. One will pump small doses of liquid Addictol into your bloodstream. The other will take blood out, cleanse it, and put it back in."
"How long will it take?" Cait asked, closing her eyes.
"Couple of hours, assuming the chair works perfectly."
"Will it hurt?"
"Like a bastard, but don't worry. I'll be here." Allen assured. Cait nodded once, twice, and then a third time.
"Start it," she ordered. A few seconds after Allen flipped the switch, Cait screamed.
The toxin purge took two hours, eighteen minutes, and forty-two seconds. And for two hours, eighteen minutes, and forty-two seconds Allen sat by her side. Sometimes he held her hand, sometimes he told stories, most untrue, but Cait knew that. It was a long two hours, eighteen minutes, and forty-two seconds, but it was worth it. Especially when Cait stood up with a clearer head than she'd had in quite some time and drawled, "Well, that was easy."
The trek back to Sanctuary Hills took some time, but now it was because they were in no hurry. The duo walked and talked. Cait told Allen about everything, her parents, her time as a slave, everything that led to her being a "tough Irish lass with a drug problem."
Allen talked, too, when Cait started to close up the way she tended to do, and he told stories (true ones, this time) about when he was young, when he was still Nathan Wake. He told her how when he was in high school, he got really drunk one night and woke up on the roof of his house, how his dad owned a restaurant, and about the idiots who walked through the door. Eventually night fell and they stopped to rest. Cait went straight to sleep. Allen stayed up, staring pensively into the campfire he had started. Halfway through the night (he was not going to wake Cait up) he pulled out his package of Mentats and threw them into the fire.
It was time for Allen to check in with the Railroad. Cait stayed at Sanctuary (her choice, not Allen's); she needed some time alone. Nick, however, went with him. Before Allen went to the Old North Church, he had a stop to make in Diamond City, more specifically Publick Occurrences.
"Nick!" Piper greeted fondly, not seeing Allen, mostly since he was waiting outside. "What are you doing here?"
"With Eddie Winter wrapped up in a bow, I thought I'd take care of some other cases." Nick explained. "Just droppin' by to say hello." Nick started to turn, before looking back around. "Oh, and to apologize."
"For what?" Piper asked, suspiciously.
"This." Nick said, before opening the door, letting Allen in, quickly leaving, and slamming it shut.
"Got a story?" Piper asked, suddenly very cold.
"No." Allen said, holding his hands up.
"Get out."
"Two minutes?" Allen begged.
"This is low even for you, Allen." Piper scolded.
"It was Nick's idea."
"No, it wasn't"
"Yes it was." They heard from outside.
"Two minutes." Allen requested again.
"Fine, two minutes. Make it good." Piper said, sitting down and staring at a clock.
"I quit the Mentats." Allen started, "I know that that wasn't the entire problem but I thought you should know."
"Why?" Piper demanded.
"Why did I quit? Because I saw the end of this slippery slope you've been talking about."
"No, why should I know?" Piper clarified.
"Because it matters to me." Allen said.
"Why?" Piper asked again.
"Because for some reason, I find myself caring about your opinion of me." Allen explained, looking confused at his own answer.
"I'm guessing that's new for you." Piper said.
"Not new, just uncommon." Allen said. "I can count on one hand with two fingers cut off the people whose opinion I care about like that."
"Mind if I ask who?"
Allen wasn't going there. He redirected, "We're getting off track."
"So what now? Do you want to fall back in line, be your loyal soldier?" Piper demanded, standing up, "What did you want out of me?"
"Piper," Allen more or less begged, "tomorrow I'm going to Old North Church to check in with the Railroad, see if they'll have me."
"So?"
"So, it'll be dangerous, and I'm going to need some help." Allen said, "And there's very few people I'd rather have at my back than you."
Allen held out his hand to shake.
"Fine, but only if you tell me one of those people." Piper bargained.
"Reese," Allen answered with a grin.
"Dead people don't count." Piper admonished, almost playfully.
"You never clarified!" Allen defended.
"That's not fair, Blue."
"Fares are for tourists."