In retrospect, stomping into Far Harbor dragging a sled's worth of meat with her power armor may not be the most dignified thing Kaelyn has ever done. But the looks on the Harborfolks' faces is absolutely worth it.
Doc Teddy's smile is approving when directed at Kaelyn and Valentine, and smug when he addresses everyone else. "Gather round, folks!"
The shout seems redundant when half of the dock's occupants have already emerged to investigate the racket. The people on watch atop the Hull peer down from the battlements, while the Mariner clutches the door to her shack and shoves her glasses on her nose. Cassie Dalton turns her chair around to face the dock. Mitch, Debbie and Uncle Ken stand by the door to The Last Plank, while Captain Avery emerges from her house to stand by Teddy's side. Kaelyn and Avery have already discussed it in private, agreeing on a united front to avoid giving the appearance that Kaelyn and Valentine are attempting to usurp her.
"Times have been tough, as we all know, but look at this here catch!" Teddy throws out an arm to the power armor with its sled of meat. "This proves that we can turn things around. Our very own mainlanders here brought this for us. They did the Captain's Dance!"
Murmurs break out through the crowd, rippling like tides crashing on the rocks. Teddy gives them a moment, then barrels straight over them: "Now, I know mainlanders are responsible for all manner of harm, but the way I see it, these two ain't mainlanders anymore. They're two of us!"
Kaelyn is floored by the cheer this elicits from the gathered Harborfolk. She shares a look with Valentine, who is equally bemused.
Teddy touches her shoulder. "Get cleaned up, and we'll get the feast ready."
True to his word, by the time Kaelyn has wiped away sweat and muck from her hide and changed into the clothes Debbie laundered—and unlike Mitch, she doesn't usually give anything away for free—several tables have been pushed together outside on the dock. The door to The Last Plank has been jammed open so people can move freely between the buffet and the bar. Massive cooking pots simmer the best cuts while the rest is to be salted and stored. From the wafting steam that curls above the pots, someone broke out rare seasonings for the occasion.
Valentine is already seated at the table. He can't partake in dinner, but he has a full glass of whiskey and a cigarette. Avery claims the head of the table, as befits the captain, while Kaelyn and Valentine sit at her right. As the food cooks, people demand the story of how they killed the mirelurk horde and lured out the queen. So Kaelyn and Valentine tell it, taking turns to add details the other missed.
All in all, it hadn't been as difficult as retaking the Castle, but the swampy conditions had made it a frustrating fight. Kaelyn does not look forward to cleaning her power armor.
Then the meal is served, and everyone digs in.
Somewhere along the line—Kaelyn isn't quite sure when—someone switches her own bottle of Vim! for something with more kick. The liquor doesn't go with seafood at all, but she still welcomes the warming burr of alcohol in her blood. It's an evening for stories, with everyone telling their neighbors of their exploits, sometimes yelling over one another.
After Bradley finishes recounting the time he hooked a mini nuke on his fishing line, another Harborman slurs, "And why is it you talk funny?"
Bradley puffs out his chest. "The family legend has it we hail from Yorkshire. Not entirely sure where that it. Capital Wasteland, maybe?"
Kaelyn drops her head into her hand. "Does anyone have a globe?"
Although, truth be told, she still isn't exactly sure where Capital Wasteland is.
Brooks returns with a globe from his store. Kaelyn finds the east coast of the USA, trailing her fingers along the coastline until she finds Maine. "See this? We're here, at Bar Harbor. That's what this place was called before the Great War."
A number of Harborfolk gather round to see. Kaelyn spins the globe and presses her finger to England. "Yorkshire is over here, in England. Across the ocean."
Murmurs break out around them. Bradley takes the globe from her and touches the spot. "Are you sure? That's a long way away."
"Before the war, people could travel greater distances." At least tonight the old wound only gives a warning pang instead of cracking open when she reminisces. "Ever seen an airplane?"
No matter Bradley's skepticism while in Kaelyn's earshot, he still shows anyone that will stand still where Yorkshire is on the globe.
Pressing a hand to the spot that aches behind her breastbone, Kaelyn moves away from the party to get some fresh air on the pier. The twilight sky has faded to blue, ringed in green-gray along the horizon. A ropey violet cloud strafes across the sky, its torn edges rust red. With only the lanterns at her back she watches the encroaching dark without fear.
Kaelyn starts, but realizes it's only Valentine behind her. She glances over her shoulder at him, a tease ready, and freezes. Valentine is—very close. If she tilts her head, she might hear the faint whirr of his internal mechanics. As it is, he ducks his head so his mouth is dangerously close to her ear.
"What's the matter?" he teases. "Cat got your tongue?"
She shivers at the fan of his not-quite-warm breath spilling over her neck. "I was hoping something else might catch my tongue." Not exactly her smoothest flirt, but it's been a while since she's practiced.
"Were you now? You might have to clarify what you mean."
"You're an intelligent man, Detective Valentine. I'm sure you can think of something."
He presses his mouth to her nape.
Kaelyn shivers at the contact and turns. "Nick—"
That's the moment Brooks chooses to wander over to them. At least Valentine's reaction times are superhumanly fast; by the time Brooks reaches them, they're standing a respectable distance from each other. "Heard you went out after that synth, Derrick. Did you ever find him?"
"Yeah, we found him before trappers could make a meal of him. He's in Acadia." Kaelyn does her best to pay attention and ignore the flare of disappointment at Valentine's discreet retreat.
"Good to hear it. Shit, I felt guilty about the whole thing. Should've calmed him down."
As Brooks leaves, Kaelyn notices a small head peeping around the corner from the behind The Last Plank. Kaelyn draws Bertha and Tony through the crowd to the buffet table and gives them her seat. The two kids squish together between the armrests, fitting into the tight space the way only children can. Kaelyn claims a bottle of Vim! for them, who again share it without a fight. It's downright uncanny to watch.
Captain Avery gets roaring drunk and regales them with the tale of her own Captain's Dance. "—and the queen looked me straight in the eye. As she lunged at me, I raised my harpoon gun and shot her right in the teeth!" Her words are punctuated by her raised glass, which sloshes at the sudden movement.
Among the hoots and cheering, Kaelyn glances around for Valentine. He leans against a nearby wall with a cigarette between his teeth, and when he glances in her direction she winks at him. There's too much distance between them to be certain, but she swears he looks mildly flustered.
The urge to cross the boardwalk to his side, to tease him about his endearing reaction, to reassure any uncertainty he has, grips her sudden and swift. Kaelyn has to retell her version of events one more time before she can extract herself from the table. As she passes Valentine, she winks again and tilts her chin to indicate he follow her. The gesture is unnecessary when he's already pushing off the from the wall; unseen, his hand brushes her lower back and she fights another shiver.
A drunker-than-usual Mitch staffs the bar, and the few people in the common room are distracted by a drinking contest. No one notices Kaelyn and Valentine slink to the stairs. She pauses with a foot on the first stair and turns. In the dim stairwell, the luminous amber of his eyes seem brighter, hotter than ever. He halts when she does, with scant inches between them.
With every breath, her chest brushes the lapel of his coat. "Fancy seeing you here."
His chuckle is a low, rumbling thing that caresses her skin like silk. "Quite the coincidence."
She cups his face and almost sticks her fingers in his jaw hinge. "Oh! Sorry."
Unexpectedly, Valentine chuckles again and crosses the last inches between them. His kiss is a slow, deep thing, his fingers running through her short-shorn hair. Kaelyn lets out a sigh, teasing his lower lip with her teeth, and the feel of him ignites the heat in her belly. He tastes like polymer and tobacco. Even though the common room is distracted by Mitch's latest call for a free round, and they're partially obscured by the wall, it isn't a good spot for canoodling.
She murmurs, "How about we take this somewhere a little more private, hmm?"
His half-second of uncertainty is enough for her to step back, but he catches her arm as the corners of his mouth kick up in a smile. "If you're sure, I'd love to."
With a giggle, Kaelyn takes his hand and pulls him up the stairs.
They settle together on a mattress that was built for only one. She flings his fedora across the room, earning a scowl and a nip to her earlobe.
"You don't go tossing away a man's personal property."
She's already worked his tie loose. "Too late. Take your coat off, too."
When Valentine's clad only in his shirt, suspenders and trousers, Kaelyn pushes him onto his back and settles on top of him. Resting her elbows on either side of his head, she peppers his face with kisses—the tip of his nose, the wrinkles at the corner of his eye, and finally his lips. Valentine hums low in his throat, his lips smooth against hers, and she delights in the thrill of it. A light rain patters on the windows as the minutes slide by. Downstairs, the party sounds like it's still in full swing, but it's forgettable against the quiet rustle of sheets. Most of the skin on Valentine's neck has been chipped away through wear, so she's careful as she traces her lips under his chin and down the line of skin to his collarbone. She's halted by his shirt—and by his hand tensing on her back.
Valentine clears his throat. "Hold up a sec. You know I'm not like..."
She's seen plenty of second gen synths to know they are by no means a perfect mimicry of human anatomy. "It's okay, Nick." Still, he squirms slightly underneath her. She sits up to run her fingers along his shoulder instead. "Is there anything you need?"
Valentine catches her straying hand and presses his lips to the pulse point in her wrist. "Second gens aren't wired for that, doll."
Disappointment wells in her stomach even as he turns his full attention to her wrist, tracing the vein with his mouth. It feels—selfish to take pleasure and give none in return. She's about to ask if he's sure, but holds her tongue. He's given an answer, and if ever he changes his mind he knows where to find her.
Sensing her unease, Valentine rolls them both so they're lying on their sides and runs his knuckles over her cheekbone. "'S all right."
"If you're all right, I'm all right." Kaelyn kisses his cheek. Throwing a leg over his hip, she curls against his chest. "I know you don't sleep, but can you stay tonight?"
Valentine chuckles. "Couldn't pry me away with a crowbar."
They settle into quiet stillness, until the faint sounds of continuing revelry creep under the crack in the door.
Her hand rests on his chest, where his breastbone would be. "Nick?"
"Yeah?"
"Do you need to breathe?"
He's quiet a moment. "Habit, mostly."
Underneath her hand she can feel the faint tick of servos that keep him operational. "Where do we go from here?"
"We take it one day at a time, doll. First, we solve our outstanding mysteries on the island. From there—we'll see."
She drags a hand over her eyes to hide the sudden swell of moisture. Oh, but she wishes they were anywhere but on this island with its never-ending intrigue. "At least I get the sense DiMA isn't the judging type."
Valentine gives a warm, throaty chuckle. "True, that."
Kaelyn closes her eyes and lets sleep take her. She still dreams; nothing can ease her nightly parade of losses. But when awareness returns, the gray filtering through her eyelids seems lighter. Trying to crack open her eyes is like trying to crack an egg open with a feather instead of a fork. So she lets herself drift, ignoring the twinge along her lower back from her contorted position. Lulled by the bulk at her side, the sound of breathing—
Kaelyn bolts upright. Valentine—it's Valentine in bed with her. She runs a hand over her face, through her hair, shoulders compressing with a sigh. He rests on his back with his metal hand folded over his stomach, eyes closed. She presses her lips to the edge of his jaw, but he doesn't even twitch. Must be running system diagnostics, then; it's the closest he ever comes to checking out of the real world.
Leaving him to it, she pads on bare feet to the tiny square of a window, pressing a hand to the glass. Gold glints on her left hand. She covers her ring, stroking over the warm metal that's as familiar as her fingerprints. Bowing her head, Kaelyn tightens her hold. Then she works the band off her finger and threads it on the chain around her neck, where it sits beside Nate's ring and his dog tags.
After—after last night, it's time.
Kaelyn feels bare without her wedding ring. Cold air prickles at skin that's been covered for years. She leans on the sill and watches the Fog through the grimy window. Despite the brave patch of blue filling the top half of the pane, there's no heat filtering through the glass.
The mattress squeaks. "Mornin', doll."
"Morning. How are you feeling?"
"That a trick question? Cause I'm feeling pretty darned good after last night. You?"
Kaelyn closes her eyes and hums. "Better."
He lets out a long breath, and admits begrudgingly, "Guess we'd better investigate those co-ordinates. Find all those codes and kill switches and what have you."
"They're safer in our hands than in anyone else's."
The mattress behind her rustles, and mechanical arms wrap around her waist. Pressing against her back, Valentine kisses the dip of her shoulder. "Don't know what I ever did to catch your eye, but I'm sure glad I did."
Kaelyn rests her hands on top of his. "Is it really such a mystery, Nick? I thought detectives were supposed to be good at deductive reasoning."
"There are some assumptions a man shouldn't make, doll. Presuming somebody's interest is one of them." He shifts to weave their fingers together, and pauses. He doesn't go still like a human, who cannot help the fine trembles of coursing blood or the shift of lungs or the minute adjustments for balance. No, his hands go completely still, digging into her flesh when her lungs expand.
Of course Valentine notices immediately. His thumb runs over the spot where her ring used to sit, drawing a shiver from her.
Kaelyn tugs herself free; he lets go at once. "Don't say anything."
In silence, they pack their gear and head out into the Fog.
With great reluctance, Kaelyn peels out of her power armor to enter the elevator. At least the Fog hasn't managed to sink this far. Praying the cables hold, she hits the down button. When the doors close, the cramped space is pitched into darkness, save for the twin lights that are Valentine's eyes. Having acquired the nuclear launch key and Fog condenser kill switch, the final set of co-ordinates from DiMA's memory has led them to the Vim! Pop Factory.
No one said anything about the hive of super mutants who filled the entrance fountain with decomposing meat. They even used the brewing vats as hot tubs.
Not something one sees every day.
With a cheery ding, the elevator doors part. This room is of an entirely different construction than the factory, with a wood veneer and pre-war furniture. There's even a defunct television in the corner. Three skeletons, likely pre-war, are scattered about the room.
Valentine stiffens after a single look over the railing. "That's never a good sign." He takes the creaking stairs two at a time and stalks to the middle of the room, where dark earth blooms through the concrete. Loose chunks of concrete are scattered around the edges of the roughly rectangular gap.
Cocking her head, Kaelyn tries to puzzle it out. "What is it, Nick?"
"Detective lesson number a hundred and eighty seven: any disturbance in the ground that's six feet long? Is a grave. Look for a shovel or anything we could use to dig with."
They spread out to search the room. Kaelyn's the one to find the abandoned shovel, half-hidden under the couch. They take turns digging, more because she volunteers to help than because Valentine needs breaks. When it isn't his turn he stalks around the room, passing the couch where they tossed their coats. Kaelyn drives the shovel blade down and hits something solid. Wood. Valentine is by her side in a heartbeat, claiming the shovel from her grasp. He scrapes the rest of the dirt away with a practiced technique that makes her wonder, and then the coffin is exposed.
With Kaelyn at one end and Valentine at the other, they lift the lid.
She leans back, gagging at the smell of rot and dust and bone meal. Her partner, however, is already inspecting the skeleton more thoroughly when she shakes herself out—and she barely catches the holotape he tosses at her with more force than necessary.
"Play it."
She fumbles at the restrained anger in his voice.
Click. Click.
DiMA's voice: "No one else can know about this. It isn't just about infiltrating Far Habor. It's about being the human that arriving synths need to meet. Reasonable. Willing to accept them as just another living thing. You'll be part of the bridge between our two worlds. That all vanishes the moment people discover that it's been manufactured. That you're actually a synth."
A second voice. A woman's. "Did she have to die? The woman I'm replacing? She— she looks so peaceful lying there..."
"Don't. Please. That blood is on my hands. Not yours."
Valentine turns his head to the side, eyes screwed shut. Jaw clenched so tightly the servos grind.
Kaelyn says nothing. Waits him out.
"Dammit, DiMA. Hiding the keys to the island's destruction is one thing, but this? God. Why?"
"You heard why." Kaelyn feels sick. "Nick, I'm sorry—"
Valentine steps back out of reach, so she drops her hand. "Don't be. You didn't do this." He returns his attention to the skeleton, running two metal fingers over the hole in the breastbone, and withdraws a tarnished silver locket. He sits back on his heels and closes his eyes. Then he draws in a harsh breath that grates on the broken concrete. "We'll search the area, just in case there's anything else."
There are two adjoining rooms: a bathroom with a collapsed wall, and a storage area with a bay of machinery and an observation window. Valentine strides forward for a better look and—
"Scanning. Approved user detected. Synth prototype. Unlocking medical door."
Valentine startles, hand strafing towards his pistol. "What? This thing knows what I am? How? Just who are you?"
That's when Kaelyn notices the speaker beside the control panel. "I am KYE 1.1, a computer intelligence designed to control this medical facility. You match all specifications of an approved user."
Her shirt, already sticky from dirt and exertion, grows damp with an apprehensive sweat. Fresh unease turns her gut as she peers through the window. "Medical facility...?"
Valentine makes a low noise in his throat, the sound bordering on tinny. "This must be DiMA's handiwork. Guess he never thought another prototype synth would be on the island."
He pushes through the door with Kaelyn on his heels. The lights flick on as they cross the threshold; Kaelyn recoils with a hiss while Valentine barely bats an eyelid. Cold white light bounces off the concrete, off the medical equipment and cabinets arrayed against the walls. It brings out the red of the gurney that sits under a lamp. Surgical implements rest on a tray beside it. Spots of maroon dust the floor.
Valentine stands under the harsh light, fedora tipped low to shroud his face, hands shoved in his pockets. He surveys the gurney in complete silence. This room with its overbright lights reminds her of the Institute and its artificial construction, so far removed from anything natural it lost all claim to humanity.
"So this is where he..."
"We should go. There's nothing for us here." Kaelyn holds out a hand.
Valentine's gaze flits from the gurney to her hand to her face. Then he rests his palm in hers and lets her pull him away.