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danses-with-dogmeat · 9 months

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M is for... The Mysterious Stranger

Ohhhhh, this one had SO MUCH potential for SO MANY things, and I just... I hope that my excitement surrounding this character and his mysteriousness and the abundance of potential there shines through in this piece <3

Golly, I hope you all love it! Cuz honestly I was SO excited to share this one with y'all :)

And here is the 2k event masterlist, for your browsing pleasure!

Pair: Mysterious Stranger & g/n! Sole (but who used to go by Nora)

Dialogue: “I never should’ve left you alone.”

Word: Memory

Rating: SFW

Category: Angst

Word Count: 2k

Maybe this was wrong of me… After all, the Stranger’s always been helpful, more than anything. Is it fair for me to trick him like this?

Sole gulped, anxiety fluttering in their belly, even as Nick gave them a solid nod from his hiding place.

I’ll have to borrow his confidence, they decided, And his curiosity.

Just then, the hired gun across the way set loose a rain of bullets in their direction, just as planned, and that inexplicable feeling rose up in them, that call to the void for aid in the form of the mysterious, cloaked man.

Who, just as inexplicably, appeared from nowhere, right where Sole and Nick had planned, had expected. Before his own bullet, fired with an expert precision Sole had only seen once before in their life, could land upon the man they’d hired to put them in false danger, Nick pounced.

The Mysterious Stranger tried to duck away, his coat billowing in the chaos, but Nick’s hold was too tight. He had him.

“Quick, Sole! Help me get a hold on him.” Nick growled through the effort of wrestling with the tall man.

Sole could only move slowly, unconsciously half-hoping that he would escape, that he could remain a mystery.

After this, how can I expect help from him again? How many times he’s saved my ass, and this is how we repay him…

More than anything, it felt like a betrayal.

Could Nick’s curiosity, could their own being satisfied, really make this worth it?

The Mysterious Stranger’s face remained covered, all through the scuffle, his hat brim low, and the collar of his trench coat high. Trying to differentiate between the synth detective and this strange man was difficult enough on its own, with the way they rolled upon the dusty road beneath them.

“Sole!” They heard Nick’s shout from within the dust cloud. “You wanna, ah, give me a hand here?”

Finally, that had them springing to action, their own hands reaching out to pin the shoulders in front of them.

Thank goodness they were the right ones.

The man was panting as Nick managed to pin the rest of his body to the ground, synthetic hands holding firm to his arms, while Nick sat and straddled his dress slack-donned legs.

“Alright, buster, you’ve been caught.”

The stranger let out a grunt of his own, as he made one last-ditch effort to escape his assailants, but all that managed to do was knock the hat from his head.

Then everything froze.

Sole’s hands went limp where they rested on his shoulders, and the stranger’s eyes, those eyes stayed wide as they locked to theirs. But he stayed still. He didn’t try to flee, but nor did he speak a word.

Quick breaths continued to escape him as Sole’s expression fogged over, first with shock, then confusion, and lastly, fury.

Shaking their head in utter disbelief, Sole released his shoulders completely, and got to their feet.

“Sole? What is it?” Nick continued holding the man down, but he hadn’t struggled. Not since Sole saw who he was. “Or rather, who is it?”

Golden eyes shone as they looked down to the stranger, then back to his partner.

To think… Sole’s head continued shaking, the wheels in their mind spinning so quickly they were damn-near ready to break off of their hinges. All that I believed to be true. All this time…

“You remember…” Sole whispered, a cold fierceness accompanying their words. “I told you I had a husband once, but that he was dead? Killed by the Institute? Guess I had that bit wrong…”

Their gaze glossed over the man on the floor, in favor of looking to Nick directly.

“Nick, meet Nate.”

“What?” Nick blinked at them, then down to the man he’d captured. “Now, how do you figure that… Didn’t you say there was ahh, well, a body?”

“Yeah, well,” Sole turned and began picking up their things, tossing a bag of caps to the hired gun before waving the relieved bystander on his way. “The Institute’s been known to have a few tricks up its sleeve. Wouldn’t shock me to find out that they’re planting fake corpses around.”

At that, Nick released him. A disgusted look rested on the synth’s lined face as he stood up himself and dusted off his trench coat.

“You got anything to say to that?” He prompted the ‘stranger,' a fierceness akin to their own hardening his voice.

“I can explain, Nora.”

The voice sent chills up Sole's spine, making them feel sick, but also… home at the very same time.

“Haven’t you been listening? They don’t go by that name anymore.” Nick practically snarled in their defense.

“I’m sorry, sorry, I just…” He stuttered, but slowly, Nate made a move to stand up.

And surprisingly, Nick let him; though his brows were hard over his shining eyes as he continued to regard Sole's... not-so-late spouse.

Now that he was at his usual height, Sole felt like banging their head against a wall.

How the hell did I not guess this? His height, his accuracy, even the type of gun he uses, all dead giveaways. How could I have been so blind?

At the look on their face, Nick must’ve guessed what they were thinking.

“He’s supposed to be dead, doll.” A cool hand placed itself on their shoulder as they looked to the ground. “No way you coulda known he wasn’t.”

They nodded at that, their expression solemn.

“Why did you do it, then, Nate? Or should I even call you that?”

“I haven’t gone by Nate in a long time. Since… since before the bombs fell, but… Sole, I don’t know quite how to tell you this…”

“Nothing you say will be more shocking than what I’ve already discovered today, so might as well just spit it out.”

Visibly, he gulped, and Nate’s gloved fingers fiddled with the pockets of his trench coat.

That’s an old habit. Sole’s mind reminded them without permission. All the wedding photos, and his hands are fidgeting with the shallow pockets of his suit jacket.

I pretended to be angry, but really…I just found it endearing.

They didn’t feel that way now.

“I thought I was him, thought I was your Nate…”

My Nate…

Their chest gave a painful ache that went, frustratingly, straight to their tear ducts.

“But I was wrong. All those memories… fabricated. Taken from journal entries, from photos and memories that Father believed would’ve been housed in his late father’s mind. But it was a sham. A trick he’d had in mind, I think… Maybe he was telling the truth, maybe he really did want a father in his life, wanted family... but, when I found out I was a synth, and when I found out about the kid he’d made. Our kid– or, yours.”

Nate shook his head, the pale lines on his face becoming more pronounced with every elongated instant of this painful conversation.

Sole actually found themself feeling a twinge of pity alongside their continuing shock.

“I don’t know. It’s all so… messed up, everything that he’s done. Trying to trick you, making me, some mockery of the old Nate, and then… after I found out the truth, when he realized I’d gone through his terminal, well… let’s just say it wasn’t easy getting out of there in one piece.”

Nick blinked, his mouth half-open as he took in the story.

“Unfortunately, all that seems pretty on-brand for the people who made me...” The detective added solemnly.

Nate nodded his agreement, his eyes downcast.

“The Railroad helped a lot, but I had to escape them too, once I realized they wanted to erase my memories. I... couldn’t let them, couldn’t turn my back on your husband’s story, not when it was the only man I could imagine being. Even if I was… I don’t know, false?”

Sole turned to Nick, just as the old synth sighed.

“Boy, do I know the feeling… Not so different, you and I. No wonder I was so drawn to finding out the truth about ya.”

“Right…” Nate rubbed at the back of his neck, another old habit Sole had been fond of. Hell, they’d actually counted how many times he’d done that on their first date. They seemed to remember the number being in the double digits. Why he’d been so nervous having dinner with them, they never knew, but still… another endearing characteristic of the man they’d loved.

“You’ve been awfully quiet, Sole…” His voice roused them from the memories.

“Yeah… I just, well… Why didn’t you approach me sooner? I mean, this ‘Mysterious Stranger’ business has been going on for months now. Why did you never think to come out and explain yourself?”

“I guess I was scared.” He admitted, but they could see he’d thought about this answer before. Maybe he’d even counted on them finding out his identity one of these days.

“I knew how much you’d been through, and… as much as I wanted to see you safe, as much as I felt this need to help you, I was afraid that you’d turn me away. I know deep down that I never should've left you alone, the way that I did, but if you refused me..."

He sighed heavily, and Sole noted the genuine pain written upon his face.

They always hated seeing him this way, his brows scrunched, eyes glistening, lips drawn downwards. It was like his hurt bled through his expression, and right back into them.

"Then… I don’t know what I’d do. Knowing you’re out here, but not being able to protect you? The old Nate would haunt my dreams until I officially lost my mind.”

He let out a nervous chuckle at the end, but Sole still just had confusion written in their furrowed brows.

“So, what? Then you just planned on spying on me for the rest of my days, but never actually making contact? What kind of life would that be?”

“I don’t know," He shrugged, "one that I deserve, I guess. I never had any delusions that you could care about me the way you did your real husband, and to be honest, I’m not sure how much of that Father would’ve gotten right in the first place, I mean… Did you even like the guy? Nate, I mean… I know that marriage back then wasn’t always for... love, and I’m under no–”

“Did I like him?” Sole scoffed at that.

Isn’t it obvious?

“Nate, I… I loved him.”

Nate’s eyes, that vibrance Sole knew so well that they frequently saw it in their dreams, grew wide at their confession.

“I loved him from the start." They continued, "Him and Shaun, loved them with everything in me… But they were both lost to me, one way or another. I had to try and shut out those feelings or… I didn’t know quite how to go on. I lost so much all at once, even before being frozen, when the world went up in flames. But I thought I could make it, if I had my family by my side, I’d be okay. But then…”

“Then the Institute happened.” Nate’s voice was dark with malice as he spat the name of the faction that had made him, and then betrayed him.

That had betrayed them both.

“I’m… I know it can’t mean much to you, but, all the same… I’m so sorry for everything that happened. For everything they did to you. You deserved so much better.”

Sole’s glistening eyes snapped to him, and there was a sternness there that nearly made Nate recoil.

“Can’t mean much… Nate, it means the world to me.”

Tentatively, Sole stepped forward, and they felt Nick’s gaze lingering on them as they reached out a hand and brushed it over one of Nate’s broad shoulders.

“You’ve been through hell, just the same as me. Shaun… Father, he did this to us, and much as I’d love to forgive him, much as I wish he was the boy I wanted to know, or the man I always dreamed he’d grow up to be, he was lost to me– to us, the moment the Institute stole him away. With him… I fear there’s no second chances.”

Their voice cracked at the painfully true words, and Nate’s own expression reflected that hurt, his dark eyebrows creased, his bottom lip giving a melancholic twitch.

“But with us… Maybe that doesn’t have to be the case.”

#2k event #2k celebration #secret event #fallout #fallout companions #fallout npc #fallout 4 #mysterious stranger #nick valentine #sole survivor #fallout 4 npcs

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sleepysailorjunko · 7 days

Text

More than a mask

It was easier for Tracy to hide how she felt than it was for her to show it.

It hadn’t always been that way, she imagined- and surely she could remember herself as a child, capable of throwing fits and crying till her face was red with rage. But it was as if those feelings were locked behind a vault now.

That, she supposed, was a good way to put it. It summarized everything quite nicely.

The vault broke Tracey and she knew it. Before the end, she had been doing fine for herself. She had a happy and healthy baby, a loving and supportive husband, and good friends. She had been seeing a therapist to help her overcome and come to terms with her neglectful and abusive childhood and learn to be a better mother for Shaun.

It was slow-going. Tracey had a hard time opening up enough to actually let her therapist into her feelings. But she felt that she had been making progress.

A lot of her progress wouldn’t have been possible without Nate, she admitted. Without having met and fallen so in love with Nate, she never would have even thought that she needed help.

But then came the end of the world. Bombs rained down from the sky and destroyed the world of man. But oh- Tracey always survives.

She thought herself so clever, hiding away from the fire cast down against man in the hollow earth, but it was nothing more than a trap.

Nate died for her arrogance, just as surely as if she had pulled the trigger herself. Nate died and they stole Shaun from his arms and Tracey lived, as if her punishment was to keep living.

There is a wound in her chest that never closes.

But it will never show on her face. Not in public, not around another person. Wasteland creatures, though, know her and fear her as the creature who carried death in its arms.

This is the only way she can keep going, she knows. Keep everything contained, and don’t get close to anyone.

It is easy for her to slip back into old habits. The mask she wears just as easily becomes her face, just as easily as she discards her humanity and becomes a doll.

And then she looks for Nick. Initially, looking for him had meant nothing more than a path to find her son.

She noted, of course, that his name was the same as her friend and former partner, Nick Valentine. But she knew better than to hope that Nick was still alive in some form.

And in some way, he was and wasn’t. His memories had been placed into a synth body.

He did not, however recognize Tracey now, so she chose not to evoke their pre-war memories.

Nick may not remember the days they spent working together before, but Tracey did and those memories brought her comfort now.

He pushed, occasionally, at her mask, trying to provoke her into a smile, a frown, to build a friendship with her. But it was harder now for Tracey to let him in, to let up her mask.

She would not let him. And so he stayed an arms length away.

Eventually, he returned to his office in Diamond City, and Tracey returned to the wastelands.

She missed her friend, and hated herself for it. She hated herself for letting him get close enough for her to miss him, even if he didn’t know.

When she met Danse, she appeared like a pistol-wielding angel, rescue from the hordes of ghouls carried in her hands.

This time, Tracey was more cautious than she had been with Nick. It was easier this time because nothing about Danse was familiar.

He didn’t push either, didn’t try to get her to open up to him. They just worked together.

And so Tracey went, looking for her boy as desperately as she could, waiting to either turn up a lead or for Nick to find one.

She and Nick have discussed the kidnapping, gone over every detail that she could recall, but it was more difficult to find one man in a wasteland than you’d think.

The day they found their first lead, it was like any other.

Tracey woke in her house, a feeling of dread and anxiety overtaking her. This was nearly routine for the widow; spiked levels of fear had started following her sleep since she woke in Vault 111.

She carefully reviewed her last memories, remembering laying down for the night in her home. After that, she identified a few of her landmark items, calming her anxiety.

Tracey’s heart filled with self-loathing after her ritual was completed. She wished she was dead.

Getting ready quickly, she headed over to Nick’s office to see if he had any new work or any leads on Shaun.

She walked through the door.

It looked just like she remembered it, the pale cream walls, clean linoleum floors, and her partner Nick sitting behind his desk. She could hear Nick’s crappy coffee maker percolating, and she drank in the familiar aroma.

He looked up at her as she walked in, giving her a slight smile.

“Morning, Tracey. Ready to get to work?”

“Ready,” she said, as Nick got up to pour the coffee. He handed her a mug, black with two sugar cubes, and she absentmindedly took a sip. “How’s Jenny?”

Nick gave her an odd expression, like he didn’t understand what she was asking or why she asked. Tracey didn’t know what she had said wrong-maybe she was more tired than she thought-Shaun had cried the whole night.

She took another sip of her coffee, hoping it would wake her up a little more. She thought Nick needed to buy a replacement coffee pot-her coffee didn’t taste right, oddly bitter and chalky.

There was a picture on Nick’s desk, one she knew well. It was of Nick, Jenny, Nate and herself. They took it at the bowling parlor, a double date. She looked at it, trying to focus on the details, but it wouldn’t come into focus, the faces melting and sliding.

“Tracey?” Nick asked, and the world flashed back to reality. The photo was gone and the office was gone.

Another hallucination, Tracey thought to herself. Nick acted strangely when she asked after Jenny because Jenny had died, the coffee tasted wrong because it was wasteland coffee and they had no sugar, and she couldn’t focus on the picture because she was forgetting Nick and Jenny and Nate’s faces. Because they were gone and she was the only one left.

“Sorry, Nick.” She said, leaving it at that. She hallucinated more frequently than she would like to admit. Tracey wasn’t an expert, but she knew it wasn’t good for her to be loosing the plot like she was, and she knew she couldn’t tell anyone.

They went to the house Nick had found. They followed the tracks he had left. It was almost like he wanted them to follow, but Tracey didn’t trust herself enough to tell for certain.

The trail brought them to Fort Hagen. The building was monstrous to Tracey, a maze of tunnels, doors, synths and robots. Kellogg’s voice taunted her over the announcement system, and she fought not to rise to the bait. She kept loosing her way and having to turn back.

Finally, she arrived at Kellogg's room. She and Nick steeled themselves, but the fight didn’t go well.

It went quite badly, actually. Tracey would have died, if it wasn’t for Nick. Still, she was going to lose her eye, according to the doctor.

She had laid in Kellogg’s room for a long time after he died. She thought she was dying, even after Nick tended to her wounds.

Kellogg is dead, and she lives. Tracey always survives, she thought.

They took Kellogg’s cybernetic augmentations to the Memory Den. Although it took less than a day for them to relive Kellogg’s memories, it seemed to take an eternity for Tracey.

It didn’t make her more sympathetic to Kellogg. There was little that would. It had given them a new heading, and worse, it had given Nick a look into Tracey’s mind. Their minds were connected while they had looked through Kellogg’s memories.

He had seen her memories, seen Nate die, seen her hallucinations, seen her charge at enemies she couldn’t take and nearly die.

“Tracey,” he said, a few hours after they had finished up at the Memory Den. “We need to talk. I think you need help.”

Tracey didn’t know what to say. She felt as though she was mute.

“I know you, Tracey, and I know that you remember that we were friends before the war. I care about you and I am afraid that you are going to die. I have lost everything else, and I don’t want to loose you again.”

“I don’t know how.” Tracey said. “Nick, I’m scared.”

She hadn’t said anything like that since she woke up in the vault. She felt like the bottle was about to explode, like her mask was slipping off.

She stuttered a bit as she spoke next.

“Where do we go from here?”

That was the question. They couldn’t realistically proceed with the leads they had got from Kellogg yet, as Tracey’s injuries were quite severe. So they stayed in Diamond City for a while as Tracey healed and tried to come to terms with the fact that her baby boy was ten years old now.

Ten years had been stolen from her. She wished she were dead.

She and Nick talked a lot. Things they remembered, places they missed, but mostly people they missed: Jenny, Nate, Farmer, and Shaun. She still kept bottling up her feelings, hiding them beneath her mask.

Eventually, she was recovered enough to take up the search again, her mask more firmly fitted to her face than it had been.

And then, it was time for her to infiltrate the Institute.

It was a mistake. She ran through the Institute, looking for her son, and she found him. He was in a small glass room.

“Shaun!” She called, but he didn’t recognize her. He didn’t know who she was. He panicked and then fell limp as an older man strode into the room.

He said that he was Shaun, that he was her son, and then things escalated, he started talking about how she was damaged and how he was going to fix her.

And then she fell unconscious.

When she woke up, she was in a small white room. It looked wrong-and her eye wasn’t gauzed up anymore. There was an eye where there wasn’t one previously.

I have to get out of here-I have to get out here! That was the only thought running through her head.

She clicked through her Pip-Boy, frantically trying to teleport back out-anywhere was better than here!

Her panicked fingers struggled with the dial, but she disappeared in a beam of white light. As her feet touched the ground, her mask slipped-no, it fell and she collapsed, howling with the pent up rage, fear, and sorrow.

No one approached her-as if they were frightened of what could make the icy knight turn into a maelstrom of emotions. She clawed at her eye, trying to pull the monster out of her head.

She didn’t remember a lot after that. She was later told that the Brotherhood had sedated her and took her away. For sometime after that, Tracey laid and did nothing. She felt as if she was truly broken, as if she had no hope.

#fallout #fallout 4 #tracey love #fanfiction #fallout fanfic #nick valentine #sole survivor x paladin danse #paladin danse #tw sui thoughts #tw suicude #tw body horror #tw experimentation #tw injury #tw blood #tw self destruction #tw hallucinations #Farmer is Nick’s brother who becomes the mysterious stranger btw #Nick Nate and Tracey were coworkers btw

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