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Chapter Text

Nigel both hated and loved the sun. He loved it when it brought back light after a storm, lighting up the wasteland where he spent his life wandering. The sun meant he was safe from those who lurked in the shadows, waiting for him to drop his defences. He always felt better knowing the sunlight helped him catch any foe in his way.

Because if you wander alone in these barren fields of nothingness, you know you're never safe. No one is safe from the horrors of the Commonwealth.

And yet alone, he walked miles of nothing but forgotten ruins of a world few remembered—Nigel was one of the many who were born way after the time when those fallen buildings had symbolised humanity's riches, not scavenging sites. He met the world as it was now, riddled with nuclear waste, barren soils, and what was left of humanity trying its best to survive. But life in a dead world wasn't easy. Nigel still held memories of a time when he helped his family on their farm; never in his life had their food stocks survived the harsh winters of the Commonwealth. It wasn't long before his pregnant mother died of radiation sickness when he was about sixteen, and his father fled for who knows where, leaving Nigel alone in the miserable wasteland he so-called home.

His life had been a blur after he decided to leave his family's decaying farm; he met people his dear mother told him to avoid, and he dived into a world she also pleaded with him not to go to. He was seventeen when he was first introduced to drugs (chems, as one of his old friends, Darko, had said), and eighteen when he killed for the first time. And like his mother once said, those who start never finish. Nigel became part of a raider's gang, making his living from the naive in the Commonwealth. He also took charge of the chem-dealing business in the group, making caps and earning enough of a reputation for himself. He left the title of abandoned farmer boy behind, along with all his compassion for his family and the world. He finally dug out his worth from the wasteland he was left in, and Nigel, for the first time, felt glad he was alive.

But light always fades at night. And so did his whole life. 

A few bad businesses that turned into a disaster, burning jealousy, and selfishness made everything he spent years constructing worth nothing more than the dust the world was covered in. His Gabi, his lovely girl who saved him once from death, left him like all he once had, and it wasn't long before all that was left for Nigel was to wander. Wander from town to town, from ruin to ruin, searching for nothing more than a few pieces of junk for him to gain some caps from. The gun in his hand also helped him survive; the Commonwealth always had a bounty on someone's head, and Nigel didn't mind taking the business in and receiving enough payment to sleep under a roof. And he knew, after all, that his life always belonged in the wasteland he was born in.

And the sun, ever giving him the light he needed, and showing the enemies hidden in shadows, could be as harsh as the days he spent wandering. There was no cloth or rag in the world that spared him from the scorching beams of sunlight as he walked over dunes of dirt and dry, brittle grounds, searching for any shelter he could find. He hated the sun when, instead of protection, it gave him more trouble. His skin was already littered with radiation bruises and sore wounds from random fights, for crying out loud, and now he would be sporting sunburns, much to his discomfort. And just the thirst it eventually nagged him with and the buckets of sweat his dirty body produced—it was torture. Nigel was already running out of clean water and preserved food. If he didn't find shelter, his overheated self would soon collapse. And after all he had been through, he wouldn't be an easy snack for the Commonwealth's horrors, even if they tried. He'd rather die in a fight than be a pile of free food for whatever found him first.

But whatever shelter he'd been desperately searching for, Nigel wasn't expecting it to be a small vault entrance behind dead bushes and dust.

The sturdy gear-shaped door was battered as any pre-war metal, corroded by years of neglect, but still as robust as any vault material. His hands trailed to the loosened sides of the door, examining the faded yellow paint and pushing his fingers through the gate’s cracks, testing if the object was still in good shape. It hardly budged.

Vaults were dangerous. Personally, Nigel had never explored one, but anyone with a functioning brain in the Commonwealth knew vaults meant danger. No one knew what could be inside, be it the horrors he'd seen before or not. Few were still home to humans—those who lingered under the ground (if they still existed) were called vault dwellers, and even if Nigel had never met one of them, he was sure a life protected by metal walls could make them an easy target in the real world. For Nigel, they were nothing more than cowards. But the odds of finding a populated vault were almost nonexistent. The world died a long time ago. There could be only two things inside, then.

Valuable junk to scavenge, or death.

He also had two choices. Stay outside and wait for anyone to pass by, rob their food and water, and hope he finds another shelter before a bigger enemy has the same exact idea—or he could try to enter the vault, trust the gun in his hand, and see if he can find anything edible or worth collecting. If, by chance, the vault was empty, he could even spend the night or wait for the sun to cool down. Both Nigel's plans involved a great risk of danger, but one thing he learned in the wastes was to not fear death. Not when he risked his life with each step he took. The bullets in his gun already represented his choice.

The vault seemed to be his only way of escaping from the harsh beams of sunlight, and just the idea of waiting outside for a miracle sounded absurd. He couldn't rely on luck. He'd rather trust the aim of his gun than believe in such a thing.

With his mind made up, Nigel quickly examined the metal entrance with a few light kicks, finally resuming to pull the loosened space with the strength he had left. The vault door creaked—a horrible sound even for Nigel's ears—but didn't move an inch. An annoyed grunt escaped his dry lips. How could scavengers, or anyone in particular, be able to open a vault? He circled the door once more, kicking the metal a few more times. The hollow bangs of boots kicking solid metal were enough for Nigel to stop his fruitless attempts to open the door. Knowing too well that loud noises could draw enemies, he was too weak to fight at the moment. He spat on the ground in disdain, his fists aching to pound the door to pieces.

Nigel wasn't an expert in anything involving technology, knowing much more about how to perform clean headshots and fixing guns than things that belonged in the old world. But he knew technology only lasted long enough with the aid of power, as far as he could tell. Some used those pre-war batteries, or fusion cores, to sustain generators. Vaults... Nigel couldn't even comprehend how vaults worked. He glanced at the dead vines over the vault sides, remembering how control panels were constantly used in pre-war ruins. It wasn't difficult to find what he was looking for, looking as rusty and old as the rest of the vault. Wiping some of the dust off, Nigel inspected the various buttons—what used to be paint was already peeled off, and the instructions left were meaningless to him. He tried to figure out a few phrases, knowing too well that his lack of education would surely stop him from catching any words. The panel stayed unresponsive even when Nigel gave up his gentleness and started smashing the buttons randomly, stubborn as the door it secured.

He was about to give up entering the vault when a soft buzz was heard from the panel's speakers. It remained static for several seconds until a deafening sound erupted from the vault's door, making pebbles on the dry ground jump and shake from the sheer loudness of the slowly turning gear-shaped entrance, accompanied by various puffs of engine smoke emerging from exhausts.

When the door finally twisted enough for him to pass through, Nigel hesitated. Unexplored ruins were dangerous, yes, and they also meant he had to be extra aware of his surroundings. Vaults could either be a fool's poor choice in which to seek shelter or the best scavenging site he'd ever find. And now that the vault was open, Nigel would do what he came in for. And he wouldn't let his fears cloud his way to shelter.

The vault smelled strongly of dust, instantly making Nigel's nose scrunch. An eerie silence prevailed after he opened the door, making each step Nigel took echo through the metal corridors. It was a surprisingly narrow place, even though the scavenger hadn't seen any other vaults to compare with. A few lights still illuminated his path, some clearly from panels he was sure someone hadn't touched for decades, centuries. His grip on his gun tightened, waiting for a single movement or noise to disturb the silence and make him press the trigger. Light from the outside still shone enough for Nigel to see without aid, but darkened corners were a common danger the scavenger wasn't stupid enough not to worry about. His torchlight turned on after a few stubborn clicks, and Nigel quickly scanned the corners for the sight of turrets or automatic searchlights. The place had none. No defences, no alarms, no fragmentation mines. It was like Nigel was the first to enter the vault in years. Nothing seemed more like a trap for him than an easy location to enter.

He kept his ears sharp and his eyes sharper as he approached the first door he could find. Most of the metal in the vault wasn't as deteriorated as the ones in the Commonwealth. He pressed a hand on the door, pushing it slowly, until he could point his torchlight into the room. It looked the same as everything else in the vault—riddled with dust and rotten from years of abandonment. Nigel resumed walking, careful in his steps, eyeing the corners in case he'd missed a turret. The place itself made his skin crawl, as if its existence were forbidden for an outsider to see, showing the face of a world untouched by nuclear waste and yet rotting from neglect, forgotten to humanity. He wasn't a man to be taken by his emotions, but something about a place untouched by the wasteland he spent his life in screamed wrong. This was a place out of time, out of his league, and even though he could already see pieces of junk to scavenge, it felt wrong to disturb the ruin.

It felt wrong, but what rules did the Wasteland have anyway? He shook his cowardly thoughts away, focusing on declaring the area free from hostile activity. A few more careful steps made his breathing inaudible again. He passed by one of the desks (full of papers and files worn out by time) until an odd noise startled Nigel, making the man twist his gun to the source of the sound. He was met with a wall of glass, clearly thick enough to repel a gunshot, and the weirdest room he'd ever seen in all his years. Everything was ridiculously clean—the furniture looked thoroughly polished, and all the objects in the room were meticulously organised. There was no dust in sight, nor any unpleasant grease or nuclear waste. On the contrary, the room looked like someone was actually living there. Or found a way to preserve the place. Besides the various techs and the ridiculous number of books and science devices cooped up in the small area, the whole ceiling was decorated by hanging lights and strings, painted dark blue to enhance the paraphernalia.

It looked like the starlit sky Nigel spent years watching.

Every detail, every sparkling light, and every colourful rotating ball was enough for Nigel to put down his gun, amazed to see such an outlandish thing in a vault forgotten by time. He had no idea what those little balls were (one even had a ring around it), but he could recognise the sun; shining proudly in the centre of the ceiling, reminding the scavenger of the reason he broke into the place. Its light glowed to the other little balls and lights—no, stars—giving the impression that this collection of junk was in fact the sky he'd watched so many times to sleep, or when he was on patrol, back in the days when he had less to worry about. It was beautiful.

"It's really beautiful, isn't it?" A soft voice interrupted the silence, instantly making Nigel let out a surprised yell, and point his gun at the glass. Behind it, nothing more than a small robot floated about, one of its eyes on Nigel and the other two on the ceiling. The lenses on the scavenger changed size by the second, giving him the impression that the machine refused to focus on the man. It also ignored his frantic scream, still admiring the decoration. Nigel gasped for air, feeling lightheaded for the first time in years, but he didn't cease pointing his gun at the robot.

"Who... What the fuck are you?" He rasped out, aiming to shoot one of the thing's eyes. The robot beeped, sounding apologetic, and turned its two other eyes to Nigel, letting the three lenses open and close in a curious manner. The man held his gun closer, trying to intimidate the pathetic creature with a snarl.

"I am a Type 1 utility Mister Handy prototype with modified circuits, engine, and programming, granting additional personality and scientific aid," the robot replied automatically. Nigel raised both his eyebrows. He knew a few robots in his life; one of them being the bartender from his favourite bar back in Goodneighbour (where he met trouble and his sweet Gabi) and the one who tended the noodle shop back in Diamond City. Besides that, he had paid no mind to them. Most were dumb as rocks, stuck in their pre-war programming for eternity. Others had developed a way to cope with life in the Commonwealth, tending bars and shops, having different programming settings, and showing Nigel how self-aware they were. Those who had personalities were exceptions, most built by a loving creator who gave them alternative ways of thinking. Not every robot had the chance to think for itself like the bartender. In fact, finding a tweaked robot was a rarity.

And Nigel was sure he had just found one.

"What...?" the man blurted out. Whatever this robot just told him, it was a mouthful.

"Let me repeat then: I am a Type 1 utility-"

"No, no, no... I get that," Nigel interrupted the robot with a sigh. "You... this place, this... who are you?"

The robot blinked at him.

"My creator used to call me Adam... I'm Adam," Adam said, tilting its eyes. Nigel stood quiet, too taken back to sneer something at the robot. He spent a few more seconds staring at the odd thing, unsure what to do or say, until he was softly called "Sir?" by the robot—Adam.

"Yeah?" he dumbly replied. Adam rotated two of its eyes in confusion.

"I... You're supposed to introduce yourself after—after that. It's in my data on human socialisation—I mean, normal socialisation, because you're the only human in the conversation... Am I doing it wrong?"

It was Nigel's turn to blink in confusion.

"Doing what?"

"Socialising. Am I doing it wrong?" The robot questioned again.

"You're..." Nigel wheezed a humourless laugh at the thing's attitude. Of all he imagined in this vault, a Mister Handy trying to give him small talk was the last thing he could've expected. Adam was obviously startled by the scavenger's reaction, three of its eyes turning down in hesitance.

"Did I say something funny?" Adam asked.

"No, no... fuck... It's just me, okay? You're..." He waved his hands at the robot. "I'm just taking this situation in."

"Oh." The robot seemed to process what Nigel said eventually and gave the man a short nod.

With silence settled in the room again, Nigel could properly examine Adam; the robot was nearly free from rust, and painted white instead of grey. Something about the big eyes was oddly charming about the machine. Unlike most Mister Handy robots, Adam's voice was deep and pleasant to the ears, unlike the posh English accent of the bartender. In fact, Adam's build was much more appreciated by Nigel.

He'd call Adam interesting if calling a robot that wasn't creepy at all.

Nigel also examined the area Adam was in; as well treated as it looked, it should’ve cleaned the rest of the vault by now, going by the robot's fixation on organisation. Instead, only Adam's room looked intact. It was like that part of the building didn't fit into the vault walls.

"Why are you still here?" was all Nigel could ask, not taking his eyes from the odd room. The robot looked taken aback by the question.

"I... I can't leave," Adam responded hesitantly. Nigel creased his brow in thought. Surely whoever gave those orders to the robot meant Adam not to leave the vault and not the room.

"Why can't you?" Nigel pressed on, choosing to lay his gun down.

"I was programmed not to leave this vault and this room by the orders of my creator until he came back. It has been fifteen years, four months, and twelve days since... Since Doctor Raki left the vault." Adam's voice slowly fell. Nigel wasn't sure if he pitied the robot or not. Fifteen years of waiting were enough for the scavenger to believe that the said doctor left Adam to rot like the rest of the vault, sure that the robot's naivety would keep it cooped up in a narrow room for as long as he wanted. Adam's downcast eyes made something in Nigel's gut twist—something like anger—to see the robot be cast away like trash and ordered to spend the last of its days underground. Even robots deserved freedom, in Nigel's mind. Most of the Commonwealth would gladly disagree with him and call what wasn't human a burden to the world. But to Nigel, having spent his life watching outcasts like him be treated like shit because someone decided their lives didn't matter, it was enough to let him feel sorry for Adam. It didn't deserve this type of bullshit.

"But what if he didn't come back? Would you still wait, knowing he'd never come?"

"I was programmed to wait," Adam meekly replied. "The doctor said he would come back after a month, but I'm sure he's just late. He wouldn't lie to me."

"He went outside. You know what's outside? Danger." Either this doctor had died long ago or he'd abandoned Adam. He empathised with the word danger to let the robot understand the suggestion. Nigel knew from experience that it was the right thing to put the robot out of its miserable hope, despite how bad it hurt, rather than leave the thing believing this doctor would come back to an abandoned vault after fifteen years.

"I've never been outside, but I'm sure you meant to say the Commonwealth of Massachusetts." Adam's reply sounded sweet even though few people (or, in this case, robots) escaped Nigel's machete after bullshitting him.

"You know what I fucking meant. There's danger in the Commonwealth, in case you didn't know, but now that I know you spent your life down here, I'd guess you don't even imagine what's out there," Nigel spat, his patience running thin. "What's out there kills, and take this piece of advice—if your doctor hasn't appeared for over fifteen years, something happened. I don't want to know, but there's more in this world than to stay waiting for something that isn't fucking coming."

Adam stood still for what seemed to be ages for Nigel, and when the scavenger was sure he had broken the robot with his speech, Adam quietly said something.

"I... I didn't want to believe he was dead. He told me after he left that if he didn't return within a month, I could consider him deceased. He also told me how dangerous it was out there and t-that I couldn't... It was for my safety to stay within the vault. Within this room, I-I can't leave."

So, Adam was trapped in this forgotten ruin for its own safety. Nigel wanted to understand why Doctor Raki didn't install any turrets or give this decaying vault Adam called home a better security system. With a few random presses of buttons, he was in. If Nigel hadn't been feeling compassionate, he wouldn't have hesitated to kill (destroy, in this case) the robot this doctor wanted to protect. Adam's safety within this vault was definitely faulty.

"If he wanted to protect you, then how the fuck did I get in so easily?" Nigel waited for a reaction to come from Adam that resembled fear, not fucking happiness.

"I let you in, of course! I saw on the outdoor cameras that if you didn't get any shelter soon, you would collapse from exhaustion. So I let you in." Adam beeped in excitement.

Adam let him in. Adam...

"You... You let me in because you saw me—I can't fucking believe this." Nigel ran a hand through his greasy hair. Adam, as much as the scavenger wanted to dismiss it, saved his life. Just by trusting a complete stranger banging on the vault's door to enter, not knowing Nigel had every intention to take every valuable left in the place. Kindness was unheard of in the Commonwealth. And for Nigel, to show he was still worth it, it made something inside his chest churn.

The robot was incredibly naive. He wondered how Adam lasted fifteen years secured in the vault; kindness killed quicker than anything in the wasteland. If, by chance, Adam took pity on every starved wanderer outside the metal walls, the robot wouldn't be alive to tell the tale. There was no need for kindness when the ones you treated equally could easily put a bullet between your eyes. Nigel felt sorry for the thing—it wouldn't survive a day before the Commonwealth showed Adam how the Doctor was right all along. There's no such thing as kindness out there.

"I let you in because I knew you'd die out there," Adam concluded.

"And yet you refused to accept your doctor's death." The scavenger watched the robot's three lenses widen.

"I knew he must be dead. But his command still lingers in my data. I need to stay within the vault for my safety," Adam said with a firm tone, while trying to keep at least one eye focused on the wastelander. Nigel scoffed at the robot's last words.

"And here you are, with a wastelander in your little vault, talking to you. I don't know if you're lucky to not attract some fuckhead here or if you don't understand how safety works in the Commonwealth. Not everyone is worthy of kindness."

"But I... I couldn't let you die. And the glass separating us is bullet proof. No one can do any harm to me from where you're standing." One of Adam's pincer hands pointed towards Nigel, supporting the robot's simple explanation.

"I suppose. Look," Nigel waved a hand at Adam. "You get my point. Letting strangers in can be dangerous. This glass here may protect you from bullets, but some people out there will find a way in. I've seen it happen before."

"I... I think I understand," Adam quietly said. "But here is still safer than wandering out there. I've never been outside this vault. I must stay safe; that was Doctor Raki's last command."

"What grants you safety is a gun and your wits," Nigel retorted after hearing Adam's hushed answer. "We all die one day. Safety is not a long-term thing. This is how this world works."

Deep inside, Nigel wanted to keep the illusion of safety in the robot. Someone untouched by the Commonwealth shouldn't go through the dangers outside of these metal doors. But Adam's kind heart wouldn't save its life from the grips of danger. Instead, the robot would probably die off, with its metal being ripped away for a few pieces of caps. Forgotten in the world, like the vault, is its so-called home.

The idea of letting the robot wander with him was ridiculous from the moment it sparked within Nigel's head. He was a lone wanderer, not a robot babysitter. The trouble he'd have with Adam already made his head ache and his mouth twist into a snarl—to give up his travelling freedom for a delusional robot sounded completely insane. Adam would only slow him down and make him a more apparent target for enemies.

And he wouldn't die for a robot. Nigel wouldn't die for anyone but himself.

"Where else would I go?" Adam's voice quivered slightly. "I can't... I can't go against my programming. I don't see the problem of staying in the safety that Doctor Raki commanded me to remain in."

"Look, this safety you say won't fucking last forever. Who knows what could happen tomorrow when I'm out of here? Nothing stays safe forever. Not in the Wastes." Nigel took a deep breath, not fond of watching the robot tremble in anxiety. Was it hard to survive? Yes. But it was harder to remain safe in a decaying vault, in Nigel's mind.

"B-But where... you're lying. Doctor Raki said I'd stay safe and everything would be okay because he said he'd come back and not leave me alone. He'd come back with my body, and I would finally be complete like he wanted, after all this time, because he promised he'd show me how to use a pair of hands and teach me how to-"

"Hold on, did you just say body?" Nigel blurted out, not expecting the robot to mention the existence of an actual body in the middle of its rambling. Adam's three eyes widened to the size of saucers.

"I... I shouldn't have mentioned that."

"This doctor made you a body? Like, a metal body?" the wastelander asked Adam, finding out that a part of his voice died when the robot went on about the subject.

"No, not metal. My body is made from flesh—real flesh, like yours. Every organ, tissue, and cell in it is organic and fully developed in a laboratory," Adam added, sounding happy to explain its body to Nigel.

"What? Like... like a synth?"

"Exactly! My body is a Gen 3 synth model. Even my own engine was made for the body. The brain will only be fully active with my component; Doctor Raki also made sure his DNA was transferred to it. He wanted me to be his son," the robot admitted shyly, looking unsure of how Nigel would react.

Not all creators build artificial children for themselves. Nigel could comprehend Adam's hesitance on the topic. Most people above ground abhorred synths. The first models were created as killing machines, pillaging, and capturing innocent wastelanders for the Institute; no one knew who they were or what they wanted, but rumour says they were a group of scientists descended from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. The creation of Gen 3 synths became a cause of mass panic in the Commonwealth; for it was impossible to distinguish one from a human, and only their brains could prove their human falsehood. Gen 3 synths were self-aware, and the few differences between a real human and them were what made people so afraid of them.

Nigel had seen many say they were an abomination to the world, or a disrespect to God for letting humankind create life out of nothing. He couldn't blame the fear these people had. In a destroyed world, all they wanted was to live without the consequences of technology.

But to kill synths just because they wanted to live—that was the problem for Nigel. Everyone deserves a chance to survive, whether they are artificially made or not.

"So he went to fetch this body of yours and never came back," Nigel concluded. Adam gave the scavenger a confirmatory beep.

"That was his lifetime's wish. He wanted me to be able to fully control my synth engine and to be his own flesh and blood. I-I wish I could've gone with him, because everything just... doesn't make sense anymore without him." Two of Adam's eyes became downcast, their lenses amplifying and closing, giving Nigel the impression the robot wanted to cry. Something inside the wastelander made him want to approach Adam and comfort it—no, him. Besides surviving, Nigel had nothing left. His Gabi had left him for someone else, and his reputation wasn't worth a single cap. He'd spend the rest of his days as a lone wanderer, roaming for a place to stay the night and then leaving by sunrise, forgotten to the world like the dust under his feet. His existence didn't matter to anyone anymore, not even himself.

And yet he kept wandering; not giving up to the scorching sun or the painful radiation bruises covering his body. Neither hunger nor thirst stopped Nigel from walking miles of nothingness. If one day he'd collapse from exhaustion, that would be the day Nigel, son of a meaningless farmer and child of the Commonwealth, would die without any protest.

But here, this robot, Adam, with his kind heart and soothing voice, wanted nothing more than to grant his creator's last wish, even if it meant he'd spend the rest of his days alone to rust. It set a spark inside Nigel aflame—a spark of hope that he could forgive himself and his errors by helping someone so different from him. Adam was the bit of kindness he never thought he'd find again.

As much as his other selfish, preservative half wanted to ignore this desire to grant Adam one of his wishes, Nigel was sure he'd rather seek something than spend more of his days wandering the Commonwealth without a route to follow.

He took a deep breath. If he was to offer help for the robot, he'd do it properly.

"I can... help you fetch your body, at least. Consider it a repayment for opening the vault door for me."

Adam's three lenses widened at hearing the man's offer, looking as baffled as a Mister Handy robot could show.

"You would?" Adam beeped.

"Yeah, I would. Just... You know where it is, at least? I know my way out there, so it shouldn't be much of a fucking problem." The wastelander sighed.

"Yes! Doctor Raki left enough data here in the vault for me to know the location." The robot turned his body to one of the polished folders, quickly taking what he wanted from the steel drawers and showing it in Nigel's direction. "Here it is."

Nigel wished for the second time of the day that he’d received enough education to be able to fucking read.

"Can you describe or draw it for me? I can't understand shit," the scavenger groaned. Adam seemed to be surprised by Nigel's reaction but didn't comment on the man's illiterate status. If he did, Nigel would cut the deal off and fucking leave.

"...Okay," the robot said, not wasting time in fetching a new piece of paper, and scribbling what Nigel asked on it. He waited a few moments until Adam returned to his view, holding the paper in his pincers.

"Doctor Raki's files said my synth body was located to the northwest, near an area called 'Concord'. We are looking for an underground laboratory. It shouldn't be too far from Bedford Station."

"Damn right it isn't. We are near Cambridge, so it wouldn't take long to reach Concord. Better take the irradiated roads than to go through town, now there's real danger there." Nigel inspected the awfully inaccurate map closer. "If you go by this, this lab is a bit away from town. Good enough—Concord's a fucking mess."

Adam hummed in thought. Nigel could see the robot had no idea what the Commonwealth's locations were. And he had not even seen how badly they were ruined yet.

"But... But you think... Do you think this is going to work out? I have no data on transferring my circuitry to another... brain. And I can't go with you. Doctor Raki said-"

"Listen, Adam, I'm not going to drag a fucking body through the Commonwealth by myself. I promise I'll deliver you to this vault again after you find it. And then you can resume staying here, and we're done," Nigel said with a firm tone. Adam seemed to find himself questioning the choice for almost a minute, and Nigel, never a patient man, would gladly cancel this fool's plan and leave the robot alone if Adam took another minute of his time to think.

"Okay."

Nigel blinked at the robot.

"Fuck-Seriously? No doubt you're going?"

"Yes," Adam simply responded. "I would resume Doctor Raki's request after obtaining my body, so there shouldn't be a problem. It's more important for me to be able to do this than to stay here. I want him to be proud."

Something inside Nigel's chest swelled. Admiration or pity, probably.

"There's no backing out now. The thing about the wasteland is to use everything to your advantage. This is how you survive a day and see the sunrise once more."

"I'll follow your orders then, sir."

This robot had already agreed to go on a quest with him, and he didn't even know Nigel's name. How naive could Adam be?

"Nigel. Call me Nigel," he offered the robot, trying to ignore the way his eyes rotated in curiosity.

"Nigel," Adam repeated, dragging the 'gel' of his name.

"Yeah. Just call me that, and we're fine."

Both stayed silent for a brief second, until Adam chirped in, sounding oddly hesitant.

"Are we going now?"

"What? Fuck no. I got here to fucking rest. We'll leave at dawn," Nigel bluntly replied.

"Oh." Adam seemed unsure of what to do, looking with two of his eyes at his surroundings. Nigel didn't expect the robot to open his room's door, instantly letting the smell of dust be substituted with lavender, like a breeze of fresh air. He stared at the robot, waiting for him to say something.

"T-There's a bed within my room, and some food and water. I don't need it." Adam added lightly. Nigel blinked at the robot, speechless for the second time in the day.

Adam was truly an odd thing.

Chapter Text

To sleep on a soft, clean bed, sheltered by walls and a non-decaying roof, was more than a wastelander could’ve expected to gain after days roaming the brittle grounds of the Commonwealth. Nigel sincerely wanted to thank the robot—Adam—once more, to let the odd thing understand he was truly grateful for its blind, foolish trust in him. It had been too long since he was granted a proper opportunity to wipe the grime off his body and to change his worn out bandages to the clean rags Adam so kindly offered him. The robot also gave him access to the vault’s medical supplies, much to Nigel’s surprise. He didn’t remember the last time he rested without the ache of his bruises lulling him to an uncomfortable sleep. Now with his body properly mended and his stomach full, Nigel had no problem dozing off, even with Adam’s constant murmuring about how he was anxious to see the stars for the first time, having every right to make the scavenger annoyed.

But somehow Adam’s voice, speaking about stars or not, soothed Nigel like a lullaby.

He’d forget the robot’s odd existence after they retrieved the body, as he did with anyone else. Nigel didn’t want to remember the naive after what he’d done to them in the past. It would be kinder to let the thing rot in the vault than let it loose in a world like Nigel’s.

And kindness, being the dangerous weapon it was, would certainly kill Adam before Nigel found another scavenging site to scrape junk from. Paying the debt for foolishness was a totally different story, and what happened after was none of the wastelander’s business. And he certainly had no business waiting for the robot to exit the vault after the sun had barely set and their journey had yet to be started.

“Hey, Adam, c’mon out already!” Nigel grunted loudly, readjusting his bug-out bag close to his shoulders. “We’re wasting fucking time here.”

He could barely see the floating figure over the obscured gear-shaped door, with the little light the sun had to offer in the cold, grim start of the day in the wastes.

“I’m coming...! I-uh, do you truly think the vault will be totally safe ‘til we get back?”

“Are you afraid to leave, or are you asking me what you already know?” The wastelander watched Adam jump at his harsh words.

“N-no. Yes. I...” The robot floated a few centimetres towards the door’s exit, where the scarce light could reach and illuminate his pristine white paint. “I’ll be locking the vault from the outside, then. The panel shouldn’t be different from the one inside my room.”

“Whatever.” The wastelander sighed heavily. Three days with Adam sounded as bad as three days without supplies. He tried not to watch the robot manage its way swiftly over the panel or get his ass startled when the grand gear-shaped door turned heavily to the walls, shutting down Adam’s home to the Commonwealth once again.

As soon as he could see Adam's white metal over the layers of dust, he stood and waited for the thing to shyly emerge from the dusty shadows. The robot approached him silently, while two of his eyes scanned their barren surroundings frantically (so much so that Nigel feared the robot would run back in a second), and the other one lingered on the vault door, as if he’d been saying goodbye. Nigel’s head was starting to throb.

“Alright, you locked your metal bunker, and you’re finally seeing this shithole we call the Commonwealth.” The wastelander waved his hand towards the miles of nothingness behind them. "Now, are you coming?”

“I...” Adam’s voice sounded small, even to Nigel’s ears. “I’ve... I’ve never expected to see... to see what’s outside. Everything’s different...” The robot’s eyes turned towards the hidden sun and then back to the cold wastes. “And everything’s... dead?”

“Damn right, it is. Not the sun, though; that motherfucker is still shining enough to kill. You’ll see,” Nigel sneered.

“Doctor Raki said the world had died because of war. He said it was long ago.” Adam approached one of the dead flower bushes, his pincer hands grazing at the dead leaves delicately, as if they were made of glass. “It’s still beautiful, though.”

The one person Nigel used to know who still saw beauty in the Commonwealth was his Gabi. He remembers how she was happy to see green grow in the wastes when they travelled together from one place to another, and how her delicate hands (the hands of a musician, not of a simple wastelander) would pick and choose flowers for the house he promised her. She belonged in another world, another life—as far as possible from Nigel. And yet he felt rage for letting her go, for letting her abandon him for another man. Gabi, as free as she deserved to be, still lit a fire within Nigel that he couldn’t find the courage to put out. She was his wife, and she had the kindness he needed. Everything else was foolish.

Something inside him still wanted to go find Gabi again, tear her away from the boy—he was replaced by a boy, nothing more than a cowardly idiot from the Capital Wasteland—and give her the life he promised her. But all his enraged thoughts would dissipate as soon as his surroundings reminded him of what his life was now. He was a wanderer, not a profit-making chemdealer. The place he wanted to live with Gabi (have kids with her even, to make a fucking family) was far from his reach now, and so was she.

He wanted to tell Adam to stop fantasising about the world like she did. It was best to do so.

And yet he didn’t tell the robot to stop examining the few dead plants close to the vault or to move on and stop wasting their sunlight by serving as bait for anything in the wasteland. Nigel moved on when Adam went along with him, and both had left the vault by the time he reminded himself of some flowers’ odd names Gabi told him long ago.

The cold morning’s dew was starting to thaw by the time Nigel and Adam reached the old railroad tracks to Bedford Station. Both had been walking silently until then—the weeping sound of the wind and Nigel’s heavy footsteps echoing over the great barren fields of fog and dust were enough to disturb the silence of a falsely slumbering Commonwealth. He examined what remained of the tracks with a few light kicks, watching the corroded metal go from under his feet to the north, disappearing over the sea of fog on the horizon.

“There it is. Our way to Concord.” Nigel hummed. Two of Adam’s eyes trailed over the tracks, their lenses shining weakly.

“Do you know what these tracks were before everything happened?”

“No clue. Some sort of transportation, I think. There are still some huge ass metal things attached to them over the north bridge.” Nigel gave a last kick to the useless metal. “Let’s follow it ‘til we get to the station.”

“Okay.” Adam floated close to Nigel's side and let the wastelander guide him through the miles of fog in the way.

Their first stop was short, and somewhat confusing to Adam. They had been walking past the ruins of what seemed to be watchtowers, and the few standing ones were, according to Nigel, the place they'd sleep if they didn't cross the bridge today. The once overwhelming clouds were scarce in the vast blue sky by the time they could see more than dead grass around the wasteland. Nigel didn't mind the hollow sticks of wood that were once trees, as they appeared more frequently in their way, but Adam—always timidly curious about things the scavenger had no patience to know—had the tendency to ask useless questions every now and then.

"What were these sticks coming from the ground?" Nigel idly watched the robot touch the hollowed wood, admiring the pattern with curiosity. The wastelander sighed.

"Trees. There's not many alive these days."

"Trees... My data doesn't tell me a lot about them... Have you ever seen one alive?"

Nigel clicked his tongue in thought. They'd been travelling in silence for an hour, and yet he could comprehend that Adam had his share of questions about a world he'd never seen before. The wastelander didn't let the robot talk back when they approached the first ruin, shushing the thing down with a rude, I don't want to know, and please shut up when it started talking about stars. Adam, clearly discouraged, spent the whole hour as silent as the dried leaves that were in their way. Nigel almost felt sorry for the odd thing. Almost.

But somehow, Adam was still bothered enough to ask about trees. And if Nigel had ever seen one in full bloom.

"Fuck... Yes, I've seen it. Now, we're here to travel, not to chat."

"...Alright." Adam floated towards the tracks again, leaving the dead trees behind.

They walked a few more minutes in complete silence; Nigel's ears only listening to the soft whispers of the wind in the emptiness of the wastes. There were few watchtowers left for them to see, all of them once painted white and green, with their small, strange metal buildings. Sometimes Nigel wondered how they worked back then, if they were as empty as the ones he'd seen so many times.

If thinking about the old world was productive, Adam was sure to have a lot to work with.

It didn't take long to reach Oberland Station—one of the few standing ones, recently abandoned by their wastelander owners. Nigel was quick to inspect the area, letting his gun nudge every corner of the abandoned building in search of a trap or a hidden enemy. When he deemed the watchtower safe, he swiftly made his way out of the ruined building to the small rock Nigel told Adam to stay next to. The robot's eyes gleamed as they examined both Nigel and the tower.

"Why did we stop here?" Adam was awfully, but thankfully, blunt with his questions, not wasting Nigel's time with chat foreplay, as he liked to say.

"To check if some dead motherfucker left something good in there. And for a piss."

"What's a..." Adam couldn't find words to finish his sentence when suddenly Nigel fished for what he needed from his trousers and turned his way towards a dead tree trunk. The scavenger would've resumed what he was about to do if it wasn't for Adam's three huge eyes on him.

"What? You care not to watch everything I do like I'm some sort of educational book?"

"You're going to urinate," Adam explained matter-of-factly.

"Yes, I'm going for a piss. You know, I'm a human. You're a robot, so you don't have to deal with this sort of shit."

"I guess... But really, I've never seen how humans perform this kind of activity. It's odd."

"Well, fuck, kid, not everyone likes to be watched while they piss. In fact, the same goes for sleeping." Nigel replied gruffly. 

"I'm sorry. I'm not very good with friendly interaction, you see-"

"So you choose to watch. Got it. Just don't keep your eyes on me so much, Jesus."

The scavenger quickly shoved his manhood back into the confines of his trousers after he finished. Adam, on the other hand, watched the wastelander without a word.

"So, now that our job here is done, let's get back to the road."

Their second stop was at another station Nigel didn't know the name of; it was bigger than the ones they'd already passed through, with larger buildings and surrounded by what looked like large metal containers. The scalding sun was right above their heads, drying Nigel's throat with each step he took, as a grim reminder of his frail humanity. He chose to lie under one of the decaying watchtower roofs when his legs couldn't find the energy to move, no longer caring to watch his ass when he sat on the brittle, hot ground.

" Fuck..." Nigel chose not to watch Adam approach his collapsed self. "Kid, have you got one of those motion sensors in you?"

"I do. Why?" Adam's eyes, never truly focusing on him, still gleamed softly in the harsh sunlight. His white paint made the robot look weirdly angelic, with light coming from behind his frame.

"Just go around this area where I'm sitting and see if you detect some fucker trying to sneak up on us. You can do that, right?"

"I... Yes. I can do that." The robot floated out of his sight silently, much to Nigel's surprise. He expected Adam to be the bitchy type. But then he had to remind himself that the guy was just a machine, not really having to bother with sore feet or a fucking sore throat. A machine with so many questions and answers about stars and the world itself. Adam, unlike Gabi, wasn't made for the Commonwealth or to rot along with it. He was built to stay within walls, not wander around Boston with a wastelander in this fool’s quest. Nigel couldn't help but feel the whole situation was just a terrible mistake—for kind Adam and for his own fucking self.

"Nigel? It's safe. There's no sign of any potential enemy," Adam informed him after he was back. Nigel let out a sigh.

"Good, good. If it's safe, then that means it's time for lunch. Fuck, I need some water." His bug-out bag was already splayed open on the dusty floor, showing Adam glimpses of materials he'd never seen before. Nigel didn't hesitate to stick his hand in the ragged container and pull a grey bottle out, opening the lid with a small click and letting the liquid inside splash into his open mouth.

Adam could only stay by and watch Nigel fish another object from his bag; a can of cram was retrieved, looking old and definitely not enjoyable. Nigel ate the canned meat with his fingers, loudly chewing the gooey paste with the gusto of a true wastelander. The man could also sense Adam's disgust and fascination by the way the robot watched him so carefully. He slurped on his dirty fingers before wheezing out a laugh.

"Cram is delicious when you're hungry. You're missing out."

"It looks gooey. And my sensors tell me it also smells bad."

"Well," Nigel dragged his fingers deep down the can, getting some of the remaining cram to his awaiting mouth. "That's life when you gotta eat. Nothing's better than eating a meal, I tell you. Be it cram or not, what matters is getting your stomach full."

"I guess." Adam's frame curled down to the floor, giving Nigel the impression that the robot was sitting next to him. He watched it rotate two eyes towards the 'wealth, letting them linger on one of the half-dead trees.

With his humour lightened up after a satisfying meal and a good dose of clean water, Nigel felt somehow guilty for shutting down Adam's small attempts at being friendly. The odd thing had no one to talk to for years, and even so, Nigel could let Adam speak for hours, just to let the soothing voice of the robot lull him to calmness. Adam was naive, but not bratty. If he had to spend a while with anyone, Nigel better be on their good fucking side.

"So, Adam," he said, dragging the bot's name like the robot did with his. "You like space, uh?"

"Yes!" Adam beeped gleefully. "Of course, I like the universe in general. There's so much to learn about something as vast as the sky."

"Alright then." The wastelander dug a cigarette pack from his coat pocket while holding back a smile. "You like the twinkling lights, hm? Fucking stars. They cover all the sky when night comes. Much like your junk thing on your ceiling back in the vault."

If stars were shiny, they weren't as bright as Adam's eyes when Nigel mentioned his little creation.

"Oh...! You truly liked it? Yes, it's not a perfect replica of the night sky, because I've never seen it personally, and all I had were black-and-white images of it back when Doctor Raki was teaching me about it, but yes , that was it!"

"Sometimes I have to remind myself you can't run out of breath," Nigel chuckled. "That thing you made was really nice. Truly. I hope you fucking like the real version when the sun fucks off and the stars start to shine."

"The sun is a star, you know," Adam added with a somehow teasing, yet neutral voice. Nigel raised one of his eyebrows at the robot.

"You fucking with me?"

"I'm not practising any sexual intercourse with you, no. I'm telling you that the sun is, in fact, a star."

If Nigel wasn't in a good mood, one of Adam's twinkling eyes could have served as his torchlight replacement.

"Whatever you say." He dragged a long whiff from his cigarette, letting the smoke flow into his lungs and cloud his mind. "You know, the sky is a hell of a thing. Compared to this filth, we call the Commonwealth."

"From the few hours I've been here, I'd say it still holds a different sort of beauty. One of my sensors could sense life growing from some plants when I approached the woods in our way. Life or not, it's still... the Commonwealth."

"Home. I have called this place home since I was born. Fucking home." He let some of the cigarette's black ashes blend with the brown ones on the ground. "This place is cruel, Adam. Everything here wants you dead. But you gotta move on, and tell them to fuck off."

"Fuck off," Adam repeated with the most pleasant tone Nigel had heard someone say that phrase with.

What a unique thing he was, Adam.

"You go, kid. Tell everyone to fuck off, because you're better than them. Tell this fucking star we call the sun to fuck right off. And all this legwork we're going to do too. Just fuck them. All of them."

"Fuck off!" Adam beeped excitedly, letting a stream of 'fuck offs' flow from his speakers. Nigel’s laughter sounded strange to his own ears; he'd forgotten what the word fun meant a while ago. He watched this thing—this unique thing, Adam fucking Raki, giggle along with him, and god, he also had forgotten what the word attraction was too. Behind all the pristine metal, Adam was a curious soul full of kindness and life, showing Nigel all of it in less than one day. Something deep inside the wastelander growled as the feeling of butterflies fluttering in his belly rose from the grave, startling him like a machete to his back.

Adam, kind, patient Adam, was doing things to him. A machine.

Was he so lonely that he opted to be attracted to a fucking piece of thinking metal? The growling thing inside him grunted a no, reminding him that Adam was programmed to be a synth—a living person with a real body and the free will of a human. But another part of him still lingered on the fact that Adam was programmed; he was created by someone who defined how he was going to act and how his deep, soothing voice would catch Nigel like a trap. Adam was something else, and even though he knew these ugly feelings were blooming rapidly as they continued their journey, he couldn't afford to feel something for a fucking robot.

They were machines. Adam wasn't real.

The thought still throbbed like a wound when they finally set foot again on the road, following the railroad tracks to the upcoming north bridge. A few stars in the sky were starting to gleam softly as the night came by, twinkling calmly as Adam floated around the fields with his three eyes glued to the sky.

"Nigel, Nigel! The stars are starting to appear!"

"That means we have to find somewhere to sleep. Don't worry, you can watch them after we find a good spot." Nigel hummed after dragging a last smoke from his second cigarette. Both decided one of the old warehouses could make a decent shelter, and by the time Nigel saw the moon high in the blackened sky, their small camp was already settled.

He'd be gazing at the night sky today for Adam, not for patrol. It was fucking ridiculous.

Nigel watched the stars with Adam by his side—the robot's eyes never ceasing to shine as he went on and on about his favourite constellations and the names of various ones the wastelander wished he'd one day know.

"It's so... beautiful. I never thought it would be like this—it's perfect." Adam's voice trailed along with his never ending comments about his favourite subject. Nigel imagined Adam's human-synth eyes to be as shining as the ones made from metal. Would they be blue like the sky Adam loved so much? Or would they be brown like Gabi's—kind and warm like the soft summer wind, always twinkling with hope for a better future in the wastes. Gabi would've liked Adam. They were different and yet so similar, and both somehow had the capability of making the wastelander’s heart beat faster.

Even the various pearly dots in the sky weren't as bright as Adam's enthusiasm. He fell asleep that night again, with the soft whispers telling him about the moon and the stars.

And the realisation that a robot talking about space was the fondest memory he'd have from now on.

Chapter Text

He was woken by the sound of thunder. But not the usual kind.

Those were always accompanied by rivulets of dirty water, usually dripping down the various decaying roofs Nigel took shelter under. No water or dampness came with the sound outside. He truly wished for the toxic rain instead of what would come from the dry, distant thunder shaking the waste’s slumbering grounds.

Everything was better than what would soon happen. Even getting soaked by foul water. Everything.

"Fuck..." The wastelander took no time in rolling off his sleeping bag, one hand blindly dragging his gear close to himself and the other searching for his torchlight. He barely had his sweaty hands on his only source of light when he heard a breathy, frightened whisper come from the other side of the tent, calling for him.

"Nigel?"

Adam—God, he forgot about Adam, who chose to lay next to the scavenger's sleeping bag while he recharged his energy. Adam's eyes, as big and noticeable in the dark as they could be, were lacking their shining curiosity, now replaced with fear and confusion.

"Shit... We need to get inside the building. Now," he groaned to the robot. Nigel wanted to smack his own face for trusting the warehouse's outskirts as a safe place to stay the night—if it hadn't been for fucking Adam and his insistence on watching the fucking sky, they wouldn't have been hurrying their asses now. He mentally cursed himself for letting his survival instincts be clouded by doe eyes (metal eyes; Adam was a robot) and a pleasant voice. Sure, the piece of metal wouldn't be affected by what was yet to come, but Nigel wasn't like Adam. 

He'd suffer from it as slowly as this cruel life wanted him to.

"What's going on? Is it going to, uh, rain?" Adam's voice trailed along the way. Nigel's strides were too long and rapid for the droid.

"Fucking hell, you shut the fuck up 'til we find a way in," Nigel said as he pressed a hand on one of the nearby root cellar gates. Breaking the old lock was easy enough, and soon all he had to do was pull the rusted metal door as fast as he could. Two of Adam's eyes kept checking the distant thundering skies with worry, but the other one stayed on the wastelander, watching the man struggle with the metal barrier. Once the gates were finally open, Nigel grabbed his bag and took out a small device from the ragged confines, letting it turn on first before pointing the object towards the upcoming storm. It immediately started to emit popping-like noises, clicking steadily but aggravating enough for the wastelander’s ears. He let the counter stay on as he shoved it back into the bag and turned his way towards the root cellar.

"Was that a Geiger counter? I don't have one installed within my programming." the robot mused, listening to the constant popping coming from the device with curiosity.

"I told you to keep your mouth shut!" Nigel spat back.

"You told me to stay quiet until we found a way in. We found a way in," Adam simply answered. Nigel felt like his head was going to explode. This cocky little shit.

"Just... Fucking get inside, now!"

"Okay...!" The robot slid past the gates without a problem, huddling his body close to himself to get through the door. Nigel went after him, hurrying his steps as much as he could. With his torchlight tied to his belt, shotgun ready to fire, and Geiger Counter beeping on, he descended into the darkness below without a word. He'd embrace a dark cellar as shelter anytime if it meant he could hide from the cursed, dreadful thing that was a radiation storm. Everything was better than the Commonwealth's wrath.

Even not inspecting the cellar for any dangers first.

The gate closed shut with a deafening clang, shutting the pair from the wastes in the damp, earth-riddled area they found themselves taking shelter in. It wasn't as dark as Nigel expected; the cellar couldn't be bigger than a prison cell, but the air around them, as scarce as it was, was thick with layers of dust. Nigel coughed the putrid air out of his lungs almost violently, letting his body stumble off of the small staircase without ceremony, too busy gasping for dust-free air. Whatever was down here, it sure had been left to rot since the bombs.

"Fucking hell...!" The young man wheezed out a few more coughs. "This place fucking reeks."

"My sensors tell me the dust is thick enough to induce severe allergy symptoms. Even my speakers are being infested by it," Adam pointed out, its body partially hidden by the shadowy corners except for his three eyes shining faintly over the cellar's small surroundings. Nigel groaned a reply between dry coughs.

"S-sure. Ugh, I hate dust."

Once his coughing fit subsided, the wastelander immediately pulled a .44 calibre magnum pistol from the gun holster on his gear. Even though the cellar looked empty, he knew far too well not to lose his guard under false pretence.

"Adam," Nigel said, wiping the lingering dust from his eyes as he turned to Adam. "Can you use your motion sensors again? See if we are truly alone in here."

"I already scanned the area. Nothing's here except for... Well, I don't know. But not any potential, living threat," Adam stuttered. "I can't detect makeshift bombs. Or turrets. And certainly not traps. If there's any here-"

"Hold on, you actually... holy shit." Nigel had not expected Adam to be this fucking quick. He'd been sure Adam could only follow orders and not actually help without him asking him to do it. Adam fucking helped him on his own.

"Of course, I don't know a lot about what's out here, but... I hope I managed to check everything correctly."

"Fine by me." Nigel sighed heavily. He spat once or twice on the floor—damn dust was fucking everywhere, even in his goddamn mouth—before returning his attention to Adam.

"Look... thanks. At least we got here in time."

"But what was it, anyway? That... thunder." It sickened Nigel to know that Adam was so untouched by the outside world. Damn it, Adam wasn't supposed to pass through this living nightmare. His metal surface should've stayed pristine (it only seemed right for it to be so) for the rest of his life, and yet, Adam was with him, now covered in dirt and about to experience the Commonwealth's deadly weather. The urge to wipe the waste’s foul remains off of Adam's white paint—to let the thing go back to the safe vault; it was kinder to let the thing stay in there—should've made him aware of how Adam was able to twist his thoughts. 

And even if he tried to wipe the dirt off of Adam, his dirty fingers would probably do a better job of making the mess even worse. Like he'd ever been as clean as Adam fucking Raki.

"Those were the first signs that we had to get the fuck outta there."

"What was coming, then?" Adam pushed on. Of course he would.

"Bad things. Fucking bad things. Now let me find somewhere to sit back, kid." The scavenger brushed the robot off. He'd explain it later, when his heart wasn't beating so fucking loud and the urge to pull the robot away from the wasteland subsided.

The small cellar was thankfully well illuminated by Nigel's torchlight, giving him the capacity to scan the entire place without him squinting his eyes, and draped with well-cemented walls and sturdy-looking earth. Metal shelves could be found in the small corner Adam floated about, full of dust and objects forgotten by time. Nigel opened all the boxes that were scattered around said shelves (safety fucking first) while Adam relentlessly observed, watching the scavenger nudge every box and corner for any danger. As much as Nigel found his nose being greeted by new waves of dust while he explored the area—making him scare Adam with his loud sneezes for a moment—he'd say that during the safety checks, sometimes Nigel felt more like a treasure hunter.

"Jack-fucking-pot. Look at these sealed-up goodies, all waiting for me!" The wastelander roared a laugh. Inside one of the boxes were intact military survival kits, all of them coloured green and sealed tight for all the years spent underground. Nigel made sure to drag the box to his seating place, where he could assort the kits one by one and see what the dead world had gifted him with.

"Just look at these; damn, God bless America."

"Well, the military was sure ready for anything," the droid commented as he scanned the box with a puzzled expression. Nigel sat on the concrete floor with a dramatic sigh.

"Not for the bombs, though. Few of those fuckers survived what we are currently hiding from," he admitted. "Radiation. Rads, as we say back in the wastes. The worst horror out there."

Adam's eyes, for once, seemed to focus on Nigel. They somehow sparkled with an emotion Nigel couldn't recognise, but to see Adam's face (not face; he just had eyes) turn into this unknown emotion made something inside the man flutter.

He hated to see, now more closely, how dirty Adam got after one mere day in this god forsaken world. The waste’s dirt didn't belong on Adam.

"You told me there were lots of... horrors here. Back when we were in the vault, I was scared to leave because you said so. But... But to see you there, you know, living, it just felt right to accomplish what Doctor Raki always wanted."

Nigel's throat hurt when he squeezed out a humourless, dry laugh. Adam's naivety made him wish the thing stayed where it belonged.

"You haven't seen anything yet. And no, I don't fucking live. I survive. There's a huge difference in it. If I lived, at least I'd be fucking pleased about life."

"I... I don't understand. Why live without having a purpose for it?" Of all Adam's questions, this one was the stupidest. Nigel wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh or just cry.

"Seriously, why would I even bother to explain how things work to you, uh? You stayed your whole little robot life under the ground, and you ask me what my purpose is?" Nigel wasn't sure why Adam's visible loss of words should've made him feel guilty. As if three metal eyes could show him actual emotion.

And they did.

"I'm sorry. I... I just..." Adam mumbled, his pincer hands fidgeting anxiously. "Everything's so difficult to understand here. I'm sorry if I said something wrong."

Nigel was definitely feeling guilty now.

"Look, Adam," Nigel pressed on, and let his arms lay over his bent knees. "This world is a fucking mess. Don't get caught up thinking about why. It just is."

"Alright..." The robot nodded after a moment. Silence quickly overtook the room; only the dry thunder could be heard from the outside, sounding muffled and hopefully distant. Nigel, after assorting the military kits close to himself, took his time settling a torn rag over the concrete floor and positioning his bag as a pillow so he could get at least an hour of sleep. He'd slept many times listening to the horrid sounds of a radiation storm, and sadly, he never got used to the terrifying feeling of it. It felt like each noise shook his very soul.

Nigel wished he couldn't remember the times where his own mother held him close as he listened to what, for him, was the sound of death itself. He knew, even in her arms, that he wasn't safe. But a false sense of it—to be in his mother's arms, listening to her speak to him in Romanian—could make any boy at that age sleep just fine, after the thundering became nothing more than white noise.

And how ironic life could be, when nothing more than what his mother pretended to protect him from took her life away when he least expected it.

And god, it scared him.

"...Nigel?" He heard Adam call from the other side of the cellar, where the robot rested with his once-chrome body close to the walls. He blinked sleepily at the bot, watching the dust float over the scarce light in front of Adam.

"What?" Nigel answered softly.

"I... I hope you will one day be 'pleased about life.' I don't really get what you meant to say, but I guess it's a good thing. And I hope you recharge your energy too."

If Adam's voice sounded monotonous and his speech seemed mechanical enough, Nigel couldn't care less. 

"Uh... Thanks." Nigel cleared his throat roughly. "You too, Adam, you too. Tomorrow we'll be crossing the north bridge, so... you do what you gotta do. Now get some rest. The night's not over yet, and the storm is still out there."

"So rest it is," Adam added, his eyes rotating in agreement. "You know, robots don't need to sleep, but we do have to recharge our energy. So yeah, rest is indeed a good word to use in this situation." The robot beeped a small content hum and set its body to the ground, making him look like a little metal ball.

"Yeah, it's a good word," the wastelander agreed, settling back on the dirty rag. "'Night again, kid."

"Goodnight, Nigel."

They had been walking for the whole scorching day without a pause, after the sun had risen and Nigel had his modest share of clean water and MRE military ration. The north bridge was soon on the horizon (after more restless hours of walking), along with the irradiated river that crossed their path. Adam, of course, was thrilled to see such an outlandish thing as a dead, full of nothing but trash mass of dirty water, but deep inside, Nigel was touched by Adam's constant admiration for what he found ugly. He knew the illusion that the half-dead world gave hope for a better future, but after all he'd been through, it all sounded like bullshit. Everything looked like the empty wasteland, which he knew too well.

The north bridge shared ground with a ruin once called Beantown Brewery, long abandoned and certainly not safe to take shelter in, judging by its size and length. Nigel chose to keep track of the railroad until the passage to the other end of the Commonwealth could be seen, not caring how dry his throat felt as he marched over the dead grass. Adam quickly floated by his side.

"These fucking metal things are starting to annoy me. They're blocking the road," Nigel commented as he passed by one of the red cargo ruins. Most of them were still shut tight since the bombs. Nigel couldn't help but shudder at thinking about what could be hiding in the opened ones. He knew Adam was tense too, solely by the fact he'd been silent for the whole walk.

Silence in the wastes usually meant danger. Hell if he didn't know about it.

"I'm now 70% sure these metal containers were used as transport, I think. There's many of them." Before Adam could resume rambling about his conclusions, both heard a muffled, sickly growl come from one of the containers, causing Nigel to automatically aim his shotgun towards where the noise came from. No sound except the wind could be heard before.

"Adam, behind me, now," the wanderer warned Adam with a sharp whisper. The bot seemed to hesitate in his place.

"N-Nigel, there's—I've detected unknown activity, but I can't—" Adam's frame started to slightly shake as he stuttered, obviously panicking. He could comprehend why. Adam had not seen anything alive in the wastes since he left the vault.

"Behind, now!" the wanderer interrupted before the robot could resume mumbling incoherent words.

"W-What... Nigel!" Adam's screech seemed to echo in the wastes before Nigel could see what had scared the bot. A rotten hand could be seen under the containers, reaching desperately in Nigel's direction.

Other grunts soon started erupting from everywhere, growing louder and more constant by the second. Nigel had no time to properly aim his shotgun when suddenly another crawling creature jumped on his back, knocking the gun from his grip. He was pulled down to the dirt with force, but could hold down the hands trying to scratch their way to his face, pushing his attacker to his side. The creature screeched viciously, and stopped struggling instantly as its face collided harshly with one of the track's metal edges, impaling it right through its gaping, putrid mouth. He barely caught his breath before more of the irradiated creatures crawled towards him, one of them especially close to his feet—he didn't hesitate to kick the creature's head open, letting gore splat over the wooden box it landed on—and dashed to where his shotgun and gear were.

The first shot was clean enough to pass through both of the creatures heads, making blood spray from the convulsing pair, and the second was good enough to leave one of the creatures’ bellies wide open. He smashed the last one's head with the back of his shotgun, letting the thing's head bleed over the dry grass. Nigel then took a sharp intake of air and wiped his fingers on his coat.

"Motherfuckers never get old. At least they're easy to kill," the wastelander commented. A whimper was all he heard as a response.

Adam's body was hidden behind one of the metal barrels, while its three eyes desperately scanned Nigel and the dead creatures at their feet.

He looked ready to explode. Nigel had heard before about a robot that got so stressed it blew up, but he knew Adam was just... overwhelmed. Overwhelmed by what reality was in the wastes.

"W-what—what were those...? Oh god, it's—it's bleeding. I can see its brain." Adam's voice varied from shock to disgust, all of it coming in his soft, monotone speech. Nigel approached the robot without any sudden moves, letting the thing float out of his hiding corner on his own.

"Those little shits? They're ghouls. Feral ghouls," Nigel explained as he searched for a cigarette in his coat pocket. "They attack you on sight and hide under crazy shit like these metal containers. I should've known a horde could be hiding around here. Well."

"But what are ghouls?" the robot questioned weakly, trying to set one of his eyes on the corpses.

"Ghouls?" Nigel let out a puff of smoke from his lips after lighting his cigarette. "Ghouls are the 'best' radiation has to offer. Of course, rads kill much more than it turns people into ghouls, but it can happen somehow. It's rare, though." The wastelander dragged a long whiff from his cigarette before continuing. "They're people who are affected by rads for a long period of time but don't end up dying. 'Course, they get really fucked up in compensation—their skin and limbs fucking fall off, and they practically become nothing more than rotting bags of irradiated meat. Most also lose their minds and turn into what we just saw. Feral.

“But there's the ones who can still think and act human. They're out here, but it's rare. We usually see ghouls like these ones. All batshit crazy and sick as fuck. No one wants to be a ghoul, trust me. Better off dying than becoming this."

"They're... human?" Adam added with a shaky gasp.

"Were human. They're ghouls now. The 'lucky' survivors of radiation damage. If you count being mutated into a rotten corpse as lucky."

"Oh." Two of Adam's eyes focused back on the wastelander. "Alright..."

"Yeah." Nigel shrugged. "C'mon, let's cross the bridge before anything passes by. We're wasting sunlight."

The robot followed Nigel without a word, stopping only when the scavenger hopped to the small gap where the bridge and a container were connected. He patted the bridge’s rusty surface as he landed smoothly on the tracks, encouraging the bot to repeat his actions.

"Here, just pass through the gap. You're small enough to squeeze past it," Nigel said, watching the robot retract his pincer arms close to his body and float past the containers, one of his eyes tempted to look down. 

"No, no, don't look down; focus. Just keep your eyes on me, okay?" he urged as soon as he saw Adam's eyes lingering too much on the water. The robot beeped hesitantly and pushed his body forward, letting it promptly fall on Nigel's open arms.

"Oof, not so fast! You wanna knock me over this bridge or something?" Nigel's breathless tease, of course, wasn't noticed by Adam. The robot immediately started apologising, squeezing himself out of Nigel's secure grip.

"I'm sorry! I should've paid more attention to where I was going, but sometimes I don't think something bad is going to happen just because-"

"Hey." The wastelander snickered. "Hey, it's okay. I was just teasing. There is no need to fret over anything now. Let's go; the road awaits."

If Adam could smile, his eyes certainly did the job for his lack of a mouth. Nigel never thought a robot could have such bright eyes and soul.

Chapter Text

Concord was beautiful. At least that's what Adam told him as they arrived, about the time the sun gleamed softly in the horizon. The town's various small buildings (so different from the ones near Diamond City or Downtown Boston) were still standing proudly, as if war had barely left them rotten and vaguely frozen in time. Of course, years of neglect couldn't make any scavenging site prettier. Concord, even in ruins, was peaceful to see in the distance, where he and Adam were safe from any dangers lurking inside the ghost town.

"I wonder if there's anyone left. Look, Nigel, there's even... What is that white building, anyway?" Adam mumbled about, trying to uplift his floating body to catch a better glimpse of the distant town. Nigel snorted.

"That's a church," the wastelander replied after letting a last puff of smoke leave his lips. "And that other building you're looking at is a museum. They're always full of pre-war historical shit."

"Do you know anything about the old world? I mean, before the bombs and... everything," Adam questioned. Nigel stopped walking for a brief moment, amusement glinting in his half-smile.

"Damn, your questions are always so tricky. It's hard to know anything around here except for, well, surviving. I can guess, perhaps, but I'm not qualified to be a history teacher."

"Oh. So... you do know something about it?" The robot pressed on, floating closer to Nigel.

"You're a hell of a learner, aren't you? You already know everything about stars and the whole fucking sky, so why bother with the old world? There's nothing left to learn."

"Knowledge is always a good thing. Doctor Raki told me that, and I agree. There's nothing wrong with knowing the hows and whys. In fact, I still have a lot to learn about cosmology and astronomy. To have the ability to understand your surroundings and how they work, or how the whole universe can shape itself as time goes by, is important to me. Very, very important."

Nigel wasn't sure what bothered him the most—the butterflies in his belly or the stab of guilt—to deny over and over Adam's requests to know more about the dead land they were cursed to live upon. What Adam valued as important was nothing more than fucking useless facts. Knowing about how to deal with damage with an improvised weapon or how to disinfect a wound, along with other concepts of survival, was all he needed. There was no need to know about stars or what the world was.

And yet, Adam found that important.

He was surprised to not pity the robot, but to want nothing more than to see Adam safe. Adam deserved so much more than a ruined world. He deserved to live safely, to never stop learning more about everything and anything, like how to use hands (synth hands, human hands), and to fucking smile. Nigel’s own heart beat louder just when he reminded himself they were close to their destination. He quickly pushed the thoughts away, not wanting to fret over anything. He made a deal, and he was going to keep it.

"Adam, I don't know a lot about what the world was like back then. But, uh, I still think there's a thing or two you might want to know about." Nigel cleared his throat before continuing. "Well, you see, there are still things left from that time. Radios, eyebots, and jukeboxes. I don't know any history behind them, but if we find one of these in our way, I'll show you what you can do with them."

Adam's eyes twinkled in curiosity. "Oh. I hope we find one, then!" he chirped, floating back to the road with an excited beep. Nigel smiled and resumed walking alongside the bot.

They found the supposed location of the laboratory shortly after dusk. However, searching the ground for the exact location of the hidden lab was proven to be, of course, difficult, even with the great amount of light Nigel's torchlight provided for the work. He eventually grew tired of wandering around the area Adam was sure to be in and sat down on one of the car wreckages by the time the sky turned orange.

"Was your doctor really sure this was the place? Is there any other information?" The wastelander grunted, watching the robot circle around him. Adam beeped in concentration.

"It is, Nigel. See, we are in the exact location Doctor Raki described. Ten metres away from Concord and twenty-five from Bedford Station. This is the place; I already calculated the results twice now."

"So he didn't tell you exactly what this lab door looks like. How are we supposed to find it?" the wastelander added.

"The facility is highly secured. Doctor Raki's experiments in the lab weren't... approved of. He had to hide everything."

“Then he hid it pretty fucking well, because hey , we still haven't fucking found it," Nigel sneered, already fishing for another cigarette from his coat pocket.

"But we can't give up just yet! It is here; he wouldn't lie to me." Suddenly Adam's frame started shaking, his eyes scanning their surroundings over and over again. Nigel instantly pulled his hand away from the coat and approached the panicking robot. He knew, by the two days he spent with Adam, how the bot was to be handled... carefully. It fucking pained him to see the thing start panicking all over again—Adam was different from the wastelanders, and hell if his own horrible self occasionally made the robot anxious. He tried approaching Adam as slowly as he could, not wanting to startle him anymore.

"Hey, hey, calm down. He didn't lie, Adam, and we're not giving up," Nigel reassured Adam, letting his hand lightly rest on the robot's white (now dirty and definitely not chrome) metal. Adam seemed lost in his thoughts for a brief second, but his eyes slowly focused back on the man.

"I don't know what to do," Adam murmured. "What if we don't—we don't find it?"

"We are going to fucking find it. I swear." He reassured the robot. "Fear is something we all feel, Adam. Remember to not let yourself be overwhelmed by it. It is normal to be scared."

He knew it too well. To be afraid of whatever came next. Fear is something that would always accompany him as long as he wandered in this blasted wasteland.

"How can you... handle it?" the bot asked with a small whisper.

“I handle it like it's a reminder. I don't let it consume me, even though the inevitable is at your door. Adam, don't be afraid to be afraid. It is..."

It is what makes us human.

Nigel could swear he'd never seen metal eyes transmit so much emotion. Adam's eyes were like a portal, opening up for emotions no mere robot could ever show. He let two fingers trail down the eye he'd been holding, feeling the smoothness of the cold metal. Adam's breath—Adam didn't breathe, for fuck's sake—hitched.

"It is?" Adam pressed on hesitantly. Nigel's own breath was the one hitching now, and he could feel his cheeks get unusually warm.

"It just is. C'mon now, let's search this place properly." He hoped Adam didn't notice his voice crack. The bot beeped in agreement, even though Nigel knew he was left confused.

"Alright, Nigel. Let's go."

Nigel first started searching over the small earth hills that trailed around east Concord, nudging the dry patches of grass with the back of his shotgun as he searched for any metal door beneath the brittle dirt. The sun had already set by the time he returned to the car wreckage (now their meeting point), with his head pounding and sweat starting to pool under his clothes.

"Nothing in the east area. God, this night is going to be fucking hot," Nigel complained as he stripped himself of his coat, carefully settling it over the car's glassless windows.

"Oh. You've got little dogs on your shirt," Adam analysed, sounding oddly surprised to see the wastelander’s favourite shirt. Nigel let out a small laugh.

"Fuck yeah. I found this shirt way back when I was a rookie." He had few belongings, even for a scavver, but the ones he kept close somehow meant more than nothing. Nigel's gear meant he was safe and, as much as he'd like to push the feeling away, worthy of an emotional bond. This was the shirt he wore when he felt alive for the first time. He wasn't a man to be taken by his emotions, but to get rid of what accompanied him for years seemed immoral.

After all, he had nothing left but a doggy shirt and his own fucking life.

"I like it. I've never seen a dog before, but the ones on your shirt are funny." Adam chuckled lightly, his eyes never ceasing to twinkle.

“I’ve seen dogs, but not like the ones on my shirt. Hell, it must have been some sort of pre-war breed," Nigel admitted.

"I like it anyway." If the bot could smile, he sure knew how to demonstrate it through his eyes. Nigel felt the corners of his own lips go up.

"Uh... thanks." He cleared his throat again. "Did you find anything?"

"No. Maybe if I..." Adam's voice suddenly died out. The bot seemed to be staring into the distance for a few timeless minutes until he startled Nigel with a surprised beep, his eyes rotating with joy.

"It's under the car! I felt the magnetic waves from the generators, but I thought it was something about the terrain. Nigel, please help me push the car back!"

Nigel nodded and approached the car, pushing the surprisingly movable wreckage away. It didn't take long for both to see an uneven patch of earth beneath it. Nigel heard the bot beep in excitement.

"There it is! I knew my calculations were right!"

"Heck, I will not doubt your wits again," the wastelander shrugged, wiping his hands on his trousers and taking his coat back from the car wreckage. Adam floated towards the hidden entrance, hesitant to touch the earth. Nigel gently came closer and did the dirty job himself, pulling the dry patches with his fists. When he felt the smoothness of the metal beneath his fingers, he let a pleased hum escape his lips.

"Adam, pull the handles over there. I'll pull these ones here," he instructed, letting his fists securely grasp the dirty metal. Adam did the same with the ones on his left with his pincer hands.

"Okay. One, two, three, pull! "

The metal door creaked open, letting the stale air from the bunker mingle with the dry one from the Commonwealth. Nigel coughed as he laid the metal lid down, revealing a small staircase down to the darkness below.

"Adam, are you okay?" he asked between coughs. Adam replied with a low, hesitant beep.

"I'm okay, Nigel. Thank you for asking," the robot said lightly. Nigel took a deep breath, feeling his insides untwist. He didn't want to see the bot nervous, now that they were on the brink of finding out what Doctor Raki hid for so long.

"Good. Uh, I'll go first. Be careful when you go down." The wastelander hoped Adam wouldn't notice his hesitation. Adam nodded, carefully eyeing the darkness below.

"I will."

"That's the spirit." Nigel smiled weakly, and descended down the stairs.

Dust, somehow, hadn't gathered so much in the bunker. The corridors were narrow, all of them covered with strange, pipe-like tubes. Nigel would never know what they served for. He kept Adam close to his body, even though the robot said there was no living being down in the lab.

"Safety first," he reminded Adam, his hands tightly gripping his shotgun. Adam could only nod, now starting to get used to Nigel's rules. The whole bunker itself was not as dim as Adam's Vault, but a vague sense of mystery was left in the stale air, along with the constant noises made by the machinery and the pipes. He was surprised to encounter different objects around him, all of them white but now coated with a thin layer of dust. The more Nigel saw, the more it made him believe this tech Doctor Raki used long ago didn't belong in this world. These were the types of technology found in Adam's room, all white and very pleasing to the eye, so different from the ones in any ruin above. He could guess already that Adam's creator had the look of a rogue Institute scientist. He didn't know what the institute was or what their tech looked like, but the fact that he created a synth body for Adam and his use of outlandish paraphernalia was more than a fucking clue.

Deep in his gut, something told him not to tangle himself in anything involving the institute. They were a bad omen, a wicked sort of boogeyman that frightened the entire Commonwealth, and the fact that Nigel was risking his own life to find tech made by the hands of evil itself was... outside of his fucking standards.

He wasn't doing this to pay off a debt. He was doing this for Adam.

"Nigel, there's the laboratory room." He heard the bot beep but took his small pincer hands on his own when he tried to approach the room. Touching them felt alien, even though Nigel expected to feel nothing more than cold metal beneath his fingers.

"Hold on, sport. Let me go in first. You stay here and watch my back, alright?" Nigel told Adam, letting the machine float around to the scavenger's back. He swallowed as he pushed the door open, letting the heavy entrance puff out warm steam when it gently collided with the inner wall of the lab. The room was darker than Adam's Vault, but deep inside, a small source of light was shining bleakly over a variety of machinery. It looked like a cloth was concealing a big, cylindrical tube.

He took a sharp breath as he walked towards it, still paying attention to all the corners in search of a hidden turret or trap. The only sound in the room was his own breathing and the buzzing of machines and technology alike.

And yet, the moment he pulled the rag down, all he could hear was the sound of his own beating heart.

"Y-You... Adam..." Nigel gasped, switching to look at the curious metal eyes and then back to what seemed to be an angel itself.

An angel who had soft—so soft, so untouched by the Commonwealth —pale skin with long limbs and lean curves. Even strapped to a bed-like object and littered with tubes, Adam's synth body was breathtakingly beautiful. From the light freckles on his nose to the downy, curly brown hair around his face, surrounding it like a dark halo, he was already making Nigel's knees weak.

Gorgeous. He was so goddamn gorgeous, and Nigel was so fucking doomed.

"We found it! I can't believe it!" Adam chirped, and Nigel couldn't help but already see his even, sweet voice coming from those beautiful bow lips.

"We... did. Holy shit, we found it," he muttered mostly to himself, somehow angry that his voice could transmit all his shock through its cracks. His heart was beating fast, and his grip on his shotgun had already faltered.

They found it. Adam's body was in front of them. They did it.

"Well, I guess we have to—uh, how are we going to get this body back to the vault?" Nigel heard himself asking, still unable to take his eyes off the synth's gorgeous lips.

"I thought of... Well, I wanted to..." Adam's words died out before he could conclude what he had to say. Nigel lifted both of his brows.

"You...?"

"I'm scared, Nigel. I know you said I shouldn't let it take over me, but I can't, I can't do this. What if something goes wrong? And who is going to teach me how to walk properly or how to use my hands... I just can't, Nigel." If the robot could hyperventilate, he'd been doing it by now. Nigel took his pincer hands on his own.

"Hey, hey. Listen, Adam," Nigel called. "Adam, please. Remember what I said about fear? It's okay to be scared. There's nothing wrong with it."

"I hate it," Adam muttered. "I hate being scared. It feels horrible."

"It fucking does," Nigel agreed, smiling. "But hey, the fucker who's not afraid of anything is the one dying first, anyway. Fear helps you out in this world. Being strong and scared is a good fucking thing, Adam."

"You think that I'm strong?" the bot asked, his eyes already turning up. Nigel nodded.

"One thing you should know is that anyone is strong for me if they survive this far. You're smart, Adam. And having some wits about you is a good thing."

"Having some... Oh. Thank you, then," Adam responded with the same sweet tone that always made Nigel weak.

"Yeah. Listen, we’ll figure everything out. We already got here, see? So far, so good,” Nigel reassured, giving Adam’s pincer hands a small squeeze. The bot’s eyes rotated slightly in hesitance and sadness, but by the tiny hopeful glint in them, Nigel knew Adam was on a better track.

“I don’t have enough knowledge to transfer my data to... you know. I just... don’t know what to do,” Adam said after a few seconds, bitter sorrow in each word he spoke.

Nigel hummed in thought, eyeing their surroundings. He didn’t know jackshit about technology. How would he know if Adam, wise and full of wit, wasn’t even familiar with the bundle of tech? His eyes trailed back to the synth body, serene and yet looking so void of life in its bed-like machine. He might not be a scientist, but he was a wastelander. Wastelanders found their way around. With a nod, he paced around the small room, nudging the various desks and searching for any clue he could find. Doctor Raki, it seemed, was smart enough to have left the synth location for Adam back in the vault. Certainly he knew that if he died, Adam would have to do this on his own. Or he would’ve left something for his so-called son here, where the doctor must have spent so much time engineering a perfect body for Adam.

“What are you doing?” Adam asked as he followed Nigel around.

“Trying to find another way around. Back in the wastes we dig ‘til we find, kid. Another lesson from the Commonwealth,” Nigel said, roaming around the main desk. With a little bit of digging, it did not take long for Nigel to find what he was looking for. He grinned widely as he waved his findings to Adam.

“Is that—” Adam couldn’t finish his sentence, too mesmerised by how fast Nigel could find clues.

“Scavver talent. How did you think I managed to survive this far?” The wastelander winked at the robot. “Thing is, every ruin that was a lab or something has holotape recordings. To keep up with the research, you know.  Guess Doctor Raki did the same as every other scientist.” He placed the set of holotapes on the desk, all of them labelled with numbers written in pen. Adam floated closer to them, his eyes wide as saucers.

“They all have Doctor Raki’s writing on the labels... Nigel, you’re a genius!”

“Far from it. I’m more of a finder, really,” Nigel laughed, crossing his arms. Adam rotated his body with joy as he circled around the holotapes once more.

“We have to find a functioning terminal,” the bot declared, floating towards the ones on their right. All of them were relatively different from the chunky ones on the surface; the technology of this whole room was very foreign to Nigel. It wasn’t rotted by time or dismantled into pieces. But it sure was a sight to see.

The terminal Adam found was relatively weird, with way too many buttons and objects that Nigel avoided touching. It looked fragile and, most of all, complex as fuck. He took a deep breath before opening the terminal’s lid and inserting the holotape with the number one written on its back.

“There it goes,” he mumbled, watching the computer pull the holotape in. Behind him, Adam hummed hesitantly. It took a moment for the wastelander to realise this would be the first time in fifteen years Adam would listen to the doctor’s voice.

He could only dry swallow as the tape began.

Facility number 3498-27, T1 base, Project AM04. Doctor Raki, John, speaking. Date concealed, code number secured.

The zygote foundation began around ten a.m. this morning. Cells are still on the microfluidic device. There was no way to create the body like in the Institute... I’m working in a very small space. Three of the first tests didn’t work out, but I believe this one will thrive. The way I’m working this time is much more... natural, I’d say. No pre-made bones, no use of the main source of DNA from the Institute.

It is just me now. I collected all the samples I needed from my own body. He is my son, after all. Code secure number 247 and finish recording.

"I gotta say I didn’t understand shit,” Nigel idly commented as the tape plopped out of the terminal. Adam hummed in thought, his eyes rotating to the holotapes.

“This is Doctor Raki’s first entry. I already know this—he told me the exact same thing back then. Nigel, we need to find the one in which he talks about how to transfer my engine to the brain.”

“Why don’t you try the latest ones? It seems like the others are all about science stuff,” the wastelander said. Adam nodded in agreement.

“Put this one in; I recognise the code. It was in Doctor Raki’s files back in the vault. The really important ones.”

The scavenger pushed the holotape in without a question, and both waited for the tape to load. The sound it emitted was much rougher than the first one, clearly showing them that something was off.

Facility number 3498-27, T1 base, Project AM04, Doctor Raki, John, speaking. Date concealed, code number secured.

Progress was made, but I have no time left. They will find me if I stay for too long. Those damn coursers can track me, and they are coming. It’s better for Adam to stay in the vault for now—if they discover his existence, he will be destroyed. I can’t let them have him. The body is complete now, after months of hard work on not letting it die.

This tape will have my alternative code for emergency reasons. Resuming the recording after the signal.

On the screen, a password entry appeared, in blinking green letters. Nigel raised a brow, turning his head towards Adam.

“Something happened,” Nigel murmured. Adam’s eyes were unusually vacant, as if he did not expect the warning signal.

“Type in Planetarium. It is Doctor Raki’s password,” the bot meekly offered, sounding hesitant.

“Adam, uh, I don’t know how. I can’t read or... you know.” It was oddly embarrassing to say such a thing now that he was surrounded by technology and smart Adam. Sure, most Commonwealth citizens wouldn’t be any different, but he was in a territory where knowledge was a must. Nigel felt alien between science and terminals.

“...Oh. Oh, I’m sorry, Nigel! I forgot–”

“It’s okay. Go on, fill in the details,” Nigel interrupted, patting one of the robot’s eyes lightly. Adam, now with more confidence than before, typed in what the terminal needed, and soon, the familiar sound of the tape continued. 

Adam,

You’re the only one who can obtain this message. I gave you the password, and I know that if you’re listening, it means that I’ve died or the institute has caught me. But don’t worry; just keep yourself concentrated on my voice. This is a limited sized holotape, so I’ll have to be clear.

The pod security number is your own access code. After plugging in, you’ll have to go to the main control panel, where the vital terminal is located. Make sure to turn the vital recognition on. Then you’ll have to plug yourself into the cognitive driver. Remember, your programming was made for the body. Turning it into an active state will cause you no harm.

I can’t tell you more, but be sure to find help if you ever hear this. This is not how it was supposed to go, and I’m recording this for the worst alternative.

Adam, please be safe. I wish I could’ve said more. So much time wasted... God ... 

The tape ended abruptly, letting white noise fill the room. Nigel pushed the eject button himself. Silence quickly took over, most of it from Adam’s side. The wastelander cleared his throat, not knowing what to say.

“Adam... Shit. You okay? Fuck, this is... damn.” He ran a hand over his greasy hair. This message Doctor Raki left was not meant for him to hear. It felt wrong, as if he didn’t belong in this scenario. A part of him knew from the start that this would be way more complicated than he expected. This wasn’t a payoff; this was personal, and to know that Adam’s fate was the doctor’s worst alternative... It pained him. Adam didn’t deserve this.

“I’m okay, Nigel. I... I think you were right. He knew I’d come one day. I just don’t know how to describe what I’m feeling,” Adam murmured after a few seconds. Nigel sighed.

“You don’t have to,” the scavver quietly said. “I don’t know how to describe it either. Sometimes all we have to do is, well, feel it. Endure it ‘til another feeling kicks the previous one’s ass.”

“I guess,” Adam mumbled, his pincer hands fidgeting. “But I know I feel better with you here. I don’t know if I’d make it this far on my own. If it was up to me, I’d be in the vault, never planning on leaving.”

“But you’re here, and that’s what matters now,” Nigel pressed on. “You’re here, and we found what we were looking for. Adam, you made it. Your doctor would’ve been proud of you. You made it and you’re one step away from making this dream of yours come true.”

“I...” Adam’s voice hitched, and his eyes started gleaming with their familiar, hopeful glint. “Nigel, I don’t know what to say. My system must be faulty.”

“So don’t say it.” Nigel smiled. “I’m not good with words either.”

Adam chuckled—a beautiful, tingly sound that made Nigel’s heart swell—and rotated his body to the synth’s location.

“Now that I know how to transfer my data to the brain, we could... you know...”

“Consider it done. Let’s get this over with.” And with that, Nigel and Adam approached the machine where his human self lay peacefully.

“I’ll unlock the pod access,” Adam said as he turned to the pod’s access terminal, one of his eyes watching Nigel. The scavenger crossed his arms.

“Can I, uh, help? Nah, the fuck I’m saying, I’d screw something up before I knew it,” he commented while observing the complicated machines. Those were obviously too complicated for a wastelander such as himself.

“You can open the pod after everything’s done. I don’t know if I’ll be able to control my hands the moment I transfer the data.”

So he’d have to teach Adam how to be human. Of all the jobs he’d done in the past, teaching someone basic functions such as walking or living was going to be the trickiest one. Fuck the time he was hired to kill; this was definitely not his area.

“...Okay. Listen, when you’re ready—Jesus, you’re fast,” Nigel mumbled as he watched Adam function with his three arms, all of them busy turning the complex machine up. For a bot that just learned how to use the tech, Adam was way quicker than the scavenger expected.

“All vitals checked. Nigel, I’m ready. I can’t believe this is happening!” Adam chirped, nervous yet full of hope. Nigel dry swallowed.

He didn’t know if it was because he was more prone to feel than Adam, but something about seeing the bot become this beautiful angel he was sure he’d just hallucinated a minute ago had his belly churning. Everything was going too fast, and, fuck, he wasn’t ready for this. This was no bounty, no payoff, no wasteland business.

And it scared him to know that running off now would hurt Adam. Kind, smart Adam, who saved him from the wastes. This was for him.

“Adam...” Nigel called as Adam put a strange cable-like device on his back. The bot looked anxious, very much like his own self.

“I... The cognitive driver is ready. Everything is synchronised,” Adam mumbled, but Nigel could notice his pincer hands were trembling.

“But are you ready? Adam, look at me.” The wastelander approached the bot in small steps.

“I...” The bot’s eyes turned to Nigel’s. “I think so. I spent fifteen years thinking about this, but now I’m here. I didn’t think this was going to happen, and yet I was programmed for this.”

“It’s okay to get cold feet. You’re doing well, Adam.” Nigel smiled.

“Oh. Okay,” Adam said lightly, his eye’s lenses opening up in a curious manner. It wouldn’t be hard for Nigel to see that curious glint in the synth’s ones. It was just the way Adam was supposed to be, after all.

“Now go on, let's make your doc’s dream come true, shall we?” the scavenger told Adam, showing him a small, crooked grin. Adam, with newfound confidence, set the programming to transport . Both waited for the machine to load with renewed anxiety, not knowing what would happen when the transition was clear.

In fact, not knowing exactly how the machine worked had Nigel’s gut in a twist. Would it be instantaneous? How would he figure out when Adam was okay? Sweat started pooling on his temples, and before he could ask Adam if everything was fine, the bot’s body abruptly fell to the ground like a ragdoll, its sturdy steel banging loudly on the floor like a whip’s snap.

“Adam, oh fuck!” he cried as he shook the cold metal, his gut twisting almost painfully. This shouldn’t happen. This was a fucking mistake. He shook the robot again, almost violently, but was interrupted by the sound of harsh breathing coming from the pod.

The Pod. Adam.

Nigel stumbled to the pod, where an obviously panicking synth was thrashing about, his blue eyes wide open as he took great mouthfuls of air. Nigel was quick to open the metal barrier and was startled when the door automatically retreated, allowing him to rip the various tubes and cords from the shaking body.

He carried Adam to the floor, not caring where he laid him. He had an armful of panicking synth to deal with.

“My chest! My chest is... What is happening?” The synth mumbled between gasps.

“It’s called breathing, Adam. Do it with your nose; it’s easier,” Nigel offered, watching the pale chest jackrabbit. Within a moment, Adam began to calm down, his breathing slowly becoming regular as he got used to the feeling. The scavenger could only watch Adam’s blue eyes—so fucking blue like the sky he loved—focus on him, showing off that curious glint Nigel was always lost in.

“It... Nigel, talking takes... breath away.” Adam commented in awe.

“It does,” was all Nigel could say.

“I... There’s so much going on. Nigel, look...!” The synth waved his hand around, testing each finger. Soon Adam’s whole body was moving, and every single part discovered was met with a shocked gasp. He wriggled his fingers and toes, wrists to ankles, head to hip. All while smiling and showing off beautiful pearly teeth, so different from Nigel’s yellow and crooked ones.

Watching Adam become familiar with his body was like the first time he saw the stars—it was mesmerising to see such happiness come from great and small discoveries. The way he chuckled when he surprised himself with a different movement or touch made Nigel’s heart swell to the point where all he could do was stare. Stare into those beautiful eyes that hadn't lost their glimmer, or at his gorgeous self; Adam was so gorgeous , inside and out.

He didn’t even know how to continue on without wanting to kiss those lips or to touch this angel; God, he couldn’t believe it, Adam was an angel amongst the dirt that came into his life, so suddenly Nigel was sure he was just dreaming. One day he was wandering alone, the next he had Adam by his side, with his kind words and naive view of the wastes. It felt like Gabi all over again, but Gabi was different from Adam in many ways.

She was a true wastelander; fierce and accustomed to the harshness of this world. She was also fire, burning through the Commonwealth, and then from its ashes came the kindness he was so familiar with. Gabi arrived in his life unexpectedly, and then she left, leaving behind memories of a better time and Nigel’s heart.

He fucking promised not to get attached again. To not fool himself with lies about a good life and someone he could hold. He still loved Gabi. But here Adam was, showing him his second great mistake. He didn’t deserve Nigel. He deserved so much better. Robot or not, fuck it, Adam was too good for this hellhole. He was too good for him.

“Nigel, you’re looking funny,” Adam suddenly said. Nigel dry swallowed.

“Just thinking about stuff,” He didn’t face Adam’s gorgeous eyes. He couldn’t do this without fucking blushing.

“Oh. Things are much stranger now. I feel more. My hands can... feel too.” He led them to Nigel’s face, touching his beard with wonder.

“It’s... rough? I think the word for it is rough.” He hummed lightly, letting his fingers trace up Nigel’s nose bridge to his overgrown bangs. Nigel laughed along with Adam.

He wanted to kiss those smiling lips so much.

“But your hair is soft. So is your skin?” The synth babbled about, holding Nigel’s head with his hands. The scavenger took the opportunity to feel Adam’s own skin with his hands. If he was soft, Adam was nothing short of silk. The smoothness of those pale wrists on his own and the soft cheeks, all of them untouched by danger and the Commonwealth, made his heart ache. He ached to touch after all this time alone. He ached to have someone again.

At that moment, Nigel cleared his throat and pulled away, fearing he’d lose control. Adam didn’t notice his hesitance, busy feeling his own face now.

“Uh, Adam.” Nigel spoke hesitantly, trying to get Adam’s squirming self off his lap. If he stayed there for too long, Nigel would fucking regret it later. 

“Nigel, you’re so warm,” Adam kept mumbling, his blue eyes now focused on the scavenger’s skin.

“When two people stay together for too long, they get warm,” Nigel added as he lifted himself from the ground.

“Oh, how do I get up?” the synth asked while thrashing his legs about, trying to imitate the wastelander. Nigel grinned.

“Put your arms on mine and hold on. I’ll get you up.”

Adam did what he was told, gingerly placing his arms on Nigel’s strong ones. He squeaked when the scavenger suddenly pulled his small body up, his knees instantly wobbling as he struggled to keep his feet on the floor.

“Nigel! Nigel, this is...!” Adam let out another squeak when Nigel held him close, his arms still holding him up.

“That’s it; you’re getting it. Just lean on me, and then we’ll start walking, ‘kay?” He instructed, making sure to keep Adam’s head up. The synth groaned in response, obviously struggling with the simple task.

“I... my legs... they...”

“C’mon, focus. Just follow my lead, alright? One step at a time.”

He took a step back when Adam was balanced enough, urging him to do the same. Adam’s legs gingerly did what they were told; earning a surprised gasp from the synth.

“That’s it, one leg and then another.” The scavver moved again as Adam followed his lead. Within a minute, Adam’s knees were no longer trembling, now that the synth had gained confidence over the movements.

“See? You’re doing just fine." Nigel led Adam to the centre of the room with small steps, making sure not to let the other man fall. The synth constantly looked down to his bare feet over the metal floor, awe shining through his frown. Nigel let his arms slowly let go of the young man when he deemed Adam's balance reliable enough, and in no time, Adam stood proudly on his own, his arms outstretched and his smile brighter than the whole sky.

"I'm standing. Nigel, I'm standing on my own!" Adam's gasps varied from excitement to sheer confusion and terror, all of it while he bobbed left to right, his eyes wide and shining. The scavver took a step back, but quickly reversed it as Adam lost his balance and fell to the ground, landing in Nigel's arms before the collision.

"Oh," Adam lamented in his usual monotone speech, unaware of how Nigel's face was contorted into a panicked frown. He turned his head towards the scavenger, panting slightly from the small effort. "You caught me."

"Your body is way too new for you to break your fucking nose." Nigel laughed under his breath, patting Adam's curls lightly.

"Thank you for catching me, then." The synth smiled, giggling along with the wanderer.

Adam was a quick learner, it seemed, but of course, this was going to take some time. He had all the time just to see Adam laugh again when he took his first step, followed by promptly falling into Nigel's arms again, excusing himself with his blushing cheeks and sneaky smile.

Nigel knew he was fucking doomed. He always knew.

Chapter Text

Becoming human. This is what Adam was going through—becoming something so complex yet so fragile. Nigel wasn't sure the word human meant a body of flesh or a way of thinking anymore; after Adam, everything slowly shifted into a new meaning. If he was looking at the world from a different perspective or he was just making new discoveries, he honestly didn't know. 

It didn't matter, though. What mattered now was Adam. Three hours ago, everything was insanely different, and Adam was still a machine to him. Two days ago, Nigel was wandering by himself, and the chances of this insane quest happening were close to zero. At this moment, he was helping a newly turned human Adam walk around a probably clandestine underground lab, previously owned by none other than his Institute creator.

Nigel, frankly, had a lot to take in. 

"Oh, my skin is getting weird," Adam commented as they paced around the main desk for the umpteenth time. Nigel was still wary of letting Adam go after the man nearly fell face-first to the ground minutes ago, definitely not wanting to see blood seep out of Adam's brand new nose. He also had little time to realise how crazy this situation was, while walking the synth around and guiding him carefully, but with this ugly lump of feelings growing for Adam with each step they took, he didn't want time to think at all. 

"Those are called goose-" He was interrupted by a sudden shiver coming from Adam's frame, managing to hold the other still so he wouldn't fall. As much as Nigel tried to ignore it, the synth's white cotton tank top and briefs were too short and thin, and while he secretly liked to admire the view, the wastelander felt dumb for not looking after the newly turned synth properly. Of course he'd get cold. And he would get hungry too, God, and thirsty, tired, and—

"Nigel, did you hear me?" the synth asked between another shiver, startling Nigel back to reality. He had to gather his thoughts better than this.

"Hold still," Nigel instructed, feeling Adam's eyes follow his movements as he started shedding his coat.

"Why are you... oh." Adam's breath hitched when the wastelander promptly covered the synth’s frame with his worn coat.

"When we get out of here, we're finding you some clothes. You'll need more layers of them if you wanna handle some cold nights," the scavver told the synth, smoothing the oversized clothing on Adam with his hands. It looked outright weird—seeing Adam's clean body covered by a piece of Nigel's world. The contrast between the synth's pristine body and the stitched cloth he called a coat made something inside him churn—it wasn't a bad feeling, but it definitely hurt in a phantom, distant way. 

Someone like Adam shouldn't have to face the wasteland in the same way Nigel did. He'd feel cold in the nuclear winters, he'd feel hunger when food was scarce; he'd feel the agonising pain of a wound and he'd feel the sick spread of rads on his frail skin.

And most importantly, Adam wasn't a wastelander. Yet he was among them now, never once touched by reality, breathing this foul air and yearning to live in such a way Nigel couldn't demonstrate. If he were still a robot, he would at least not suffer. The sheer thought of Adam being hurt by any horrors out there was outright terrifying. Gabi at least knew how to handle life—she was born here, raised in the filth and decay of a broken world—but Adam... Adam was created within white walls and under the earth. How could the God he never prayed to leave such a bright soul with him and this wasteland? 

How could he forgive himself if Adam didn't survive, forgotten in that dreaded vault of his and oblivious to the danger around him? 

"Nigel..." Adam's feather-light touch guided Nigel back to reality. "You're frowning." The synth bit his bottom lip, frowning as well. 

"I..." Nigel closed his mouth, not finding anything to say. The feeling inside him grew, begging him to protect Adam from all the danger ahead. He'd have to teach the synth how to wield a gun, how to defend himself, and most importantly, how to wake up another day alive. What Nigel did over the years could barely be called living. Survival was tough, merciless, and tiresome. But it is important to anyone who wanders out there.

"Nigel..." Adam repeated.

"I think we should wait 'til you can walk properly for, uh, going out there. We'll find you some clothes, then," Nigel said, his hands unconsciously patting Adam's shoulders. The synth dry swallowed, narrowing his eyes. He could be aware of Nigel's worries, maybe. But for now, they'll focus on walking. One step at a time.

Before they got out, after hours of tiptoeing around corridors and exploring new movements, Nigel realised he had to teach Adam how to eat; after all, the moment his stomach growled, dinner should be up (or breakfast; hell, he had no idea what time it was, underground and all). Setting up a fire inside a building like this was tricky; without proper equipment such as pans and bowls to place the food, hot dishes were off the menu. It meant Adam would have to eat travel food along with him if they decided not to leave the bunker.

And cram, judging by Adam's previous reaction, was off the menu too.

"Hey, time to eat," the scavenger called, knowing the synth wouldn't stay put after finally mastering the control of his legs. Sure, it took a while for Adam to ensure a rather distraught Nigel he wouldn't fall, and yes, he was confident enough to tiptoe around the area they both knew by heart after many walks together. He let the young man go explore as he took the MREs out, making sure to check on Adam for any trouble.

"Nigel, look what I found," Adam's legs were still wobbly as they worked on a quick sprint, his large coat flopping between rather skinny knees. Before Nigel could say anything, Adam laid his findings on the ground, his eyes never ceasing to twinkle in excitement.

"Blamco Mac and Cheese?" the scavenger commented, the corner of his lips turning up when Adam nodded.

"Doctor Raki used to love them, and I found a box just by the shelves! Do you think you can, uh, cook them? I want to find out if they're as good as he told me they were," the synth explained, fiddling with his fingers. Nigel raised an eyebrow.

"If you find some water, a bowl, and some fire, sure. But without it, better off eating cram." The wastelander chuckled, taking a look at the intact Mac and Cheese boxes.

"Oh... Well, I saw a bucket. And the heat from the radiator over the pod should work as an improvised stove."

"Alright, I forgot I can't doubt your wits," Nigel said after a few moments of watching Adam's eyes shine. "We'll just have to cook it with some clean water, and then... well, that's it. Nice job improvising."

"Scavver talent?" Adam added hesitantly, his big smile turning shy as he waited for Nigel's response. The scavver blinked, not knowing what to say.

"...Hell yeah, you're getting it." Nigel smiled back at the synth, even though his tone wasn't as merry as he wanted it to be. Adam returned the smile with equal hesitance, tapping his fingers on the box. 

"Now let's get this thing cookin'," the wanderer concluded, brushing off the awkward silence with a wave of his hand. 

Putting the shell-like macaroni and water inside the bucket was Nigel's task; Adam's fingers trembled just by taking the box in his unsure hands, making Nigel pour the uncooked meal while holding the other's hands in his own. As the water started bubbling from the heat, both men silently watched the steam rise from the bucket, providing a stable source of heat for Adam to relish in. All was going well (too well, much like a delicate dream), with the occasional touch of reality with Nigel explaining to an oblivious Adam not to touch the bucket or the water, telling him about what burns and what doesn't.

Even when they ate—when Adam's hands missed his mouth by the fifth time, smearing cheese all over his face, and Nigel had to hand-feed a hyped synth who could not wait to swallow before asking for more (never in his life had Nigel seen someone so enthusiastic about Mac and Cheese; it was like Adam had found heaven in the cheesy meal)—Adam's cheer never died out, as if the life the synth discovered had so much to give instead of taking. He ended up laughing along with Adam fucking Raki, who had so much humanity in him that even the wasteland didn't stand a chance to take it away.

And when they slept—Adam fell asleep almost instantly after eating his meal—Nigel prayed that tomorrow they'd do everything right. He would fight again to see Adam smile. He would teach him how to live.

"Sleeping is so weird. Without my night sensors, I felt like I stopped functioning, and then when my system caught up again, my limbs were extra heavy. My eyes too—Nigel, were they supposed to uh... leak out water when I, um, what's the name again?"

"Yawned? It happens sometimes." Both Wastelander and Synth sat along the steaming bucket once again, solely by Adam's request to eat Mac and Cheese. It seemed like the feeling of food expanding in one's stomach fascinated Adam beyond measure, and by his reaction to any other food Nigel had instead of Mac and Cheese, he grew fond of the specific cheesy meal. The synth could barely eat without speaking or forgetting to chew, making Nigel's job of teaching Adam how to put food in his mouth harder than he thought.

"Yes! What odd human behavior! Is it supposed to help cool our brains? Or is it the same thing as stretching our limbs? My studies tell me pre-war animals yawned too." Adam continued on as Nigel gathered more mac and cheese in his fingers.

"Maybe. Now don't forget to chew," the scavenger instructed, not wanting to see Adam choke on his food again. After the synth's panicked coughing ceased when he first choked on macaroni, Adam was again mesmerized by his new reflexes.

They tried getting Adam to eat with his hands already, but the synth seemed to prefer the scavver's attention way more than eating by himself.

"That's it. You can close it now," Nigel spoke softly, leaving Adam to savour his favourite meal as the other chewed and chewed on the cheesy pasta. Of all the things he had expected, hand-feeding a synth was not one of them.

"Hm, this is so good! How can an organ such as the-" Adam paused to chew again, "tongue be able to detect so many flavours? It's weird that I can control it; I never knew it was so important for human-" he paused again to swallow, "vocabulary. And the sensation of food going down your oesophagus is so... different. I wonder if my body might become overstimulated after experiencing so many feelings in such a short time. It's so weird."

"You didn't feel anything when you were, well, you know?" Nigel asked. Adam frowned in thought.

"I did, and I didn't. It's difficult to explain when all you feel back then comes from sensors within you. The external sensitivity of a human body is different from what you feel when information is translated to your database, not your nervous system.

"I could, uh, feel what was around me in a different way—my sensors told me what smelled and what didn't, what was rough and what wasn't... but the sensory limit didn't stop me from knowing what's around me. I knew those feelings in my own way."

Nigel tried to imagine himself feeling only because sensors within told him what was real and what wasn't. He hastily stopped working out more questions as he realised it wouldn't lead them anywhere—what was important was now, and what was in the past should be in the past. He wasn't a scientist, and he felt downright weird when he imagined himself in a robot body.

Concentrate, Nigel.

"In a way. But look at you, eating mac and cheese and not forgetting to chew! You're doing a great job." The scavver smiled as he patted Adam's shoulder. The synth's cheeks blushed, spreading red all over his surprised frown. 

"My face is warm. Why is my face warm?" Adam mumbled, touching his reddened skin in confusion. Nigel tried not to blush himself; seeing Adam flush red already made butterflies flutter in his belly.

"That's the feeling you get when... when you..." The scavver closed his mouth after not finding any words to say. Adam's eyes shone in both curiosity and something more, something neither Nigel nor Adam recognised.

"Is my system faulty? Are you feeling this too, Nigel?" Adam inquired, now watching Nigel with a shimmer of fear. The scavver sighed, choosing to caress the synth's shoulder. He'd rather not scare Adam away now that he sees the insecurity in his eyes. He was also pretty damn insecure about it himself.

"I am. It's normal; that's just the heat from the bucket." The wastelander brushed Adam's shoulder for the last time and composed himself—he realised he was really close to the synth, really fucking close—and pretended to be busy with the food. "Now let's finish this off and leave this airtight container of a lab."

Adam seemed to be happy to focus again on his cheesy delicacy, even though both men continued to feel flutters in their bellies.

The sun shone high and proud as they left the underground lab, letting the warm wind from the wastes tangle their hair while climbing out of the darkness below, leaving behind the stale atmosphere and the cold, steel corridors. It was a breath of fresh air for Nigel to emerge from the bunker, and the first time for Adam to take in with his new lungs the air of the Commonwealth, surprisingly fresh like water, something he still had to taste again as the sun bore down.

Few clouds covered the livid blue in the sky, and the atmosphere, for some reason, felt like a new beginning. Like emerging from a cocoon, especially for Adam. He would see the Commonwealth with real eyes and real colours, now about to experience another journey.

"Goddamn, I can breathe properly again." Nigel took another deep breath of air, stretching his arms and wearing a smug smile. Adam tried taking a breath along with the wanderer, finding the humidity and clarity of the air much nicer than underground. Around them, the car wreckages still lay in their frozen time, the flora around them dry but with a little green to tell them the earth could be healing. Nigel wouldn’t have realised the land looked nicer if not for Adam's amazed remarks.

"It's... It's so beautiful," Adam said, relishing the warm sunbeams and the freedom of using his legs.

"And your feet are bare. That's going to be a problem if we don't find you some shoes soon enough," the scavenger commented as he watched the synth explore the surroundings. "We need a plan. Concord's really silent; it could be that no raiders are roaming 'round there. Too quiet can mean dead meat."

"What do you think is in Concord?" the synth asked, squinting at the small town.

"Anything could be wandering around there. Raiders, ghouls, or nothing. Ghouls usually stay near Cambridge, and the last time I heard from Concord, raiders were pestering around. But it's too fucking quiet. Raiders are a loud, noisy bunch of fuckers. I can check it out from the distance." With that said, Nigel took out a pair of binoculars from his bag, taking his time to analyse the ghost town.

"Now look at that. No raider scouts to flip the middle finger at me. And no turrets too, hm." Nigel zoomed the lenses into the church area, checking the corroded streets. Silence lingered for a few moments, until the scavver let out a shocked gasp from his previously closed mouth. "What the fuck?"

"What? What is it?" the synth questioned immediately, hiding behind Nigel's back.

"There's... Holy fucking shit, there's a deathclaw body laying there! Who the fuck took down a deathclaw in Concord?" The scavver zoomed again. "It seems to be rotting. Whoever killed it left Concord a while ago, I think. I'll take a look while you stay behind my back. Don't do anything without me telling you the area's clear, okay?"

"I-uh, okay. I'll be quiet," the synth nodded.

"Alright. Let's move."

The pair started cautiously roaming around the streets after entering the ghost town, the sun illuminating the abandoned buildings in a sombre beauty. Nigel caught glimpses of crows watching them as they approached the museum, as if they knew death plagued this town. Everything around them was frozen unwillingly in time, from the few American flags still hanging on the buildings to the once thriving shops now destroyed and ruined, now a ghost of their past.

What truly brought chills to Nigel wasn't the Commonwealth ruins (he grew up in them; he knew what it was to live in a dead world), but the corpse of a great-scaled beast laying in front of the Museum of Freedom, its body covered in bullets and its tough skin already rotting away. Next to it, raider corpses were splayed on the street, also covered in dozens of bullets and smelling of decay.

Someone had really shown what they were capable of here. Someone Nigel wouldn't dare provoke in a million years.

"Oh, Nigel, this is..." Before Nigel could respond, Adam gagged, his hands starting to shake. The scavenger had to remember once again how unprepared for the wastes Adam truly was, gagging at the sight of bodies and the smell Nigel was so used to already.

"Hey, it's okay. Stay with me; focus." Nigel held the synth's shoulders with his hands, softly comforting the distressed companion. Adam's breathing steadied after deep breaths, doing as Nigel instructed.

"I... I didn't realise the smell was that impactful. But I'm okay now, thank you," Adam assured, smiling at the wastelander after a few moments.

"It is, but don't get caught up in it. This means we may have this town to ourselves to explore. Dead raiders equal nice scavenging," the wastelander smiled back, squeezing Adam's shoulders. "Stay behind me even if the place looks dead, okay? Let's find a place we can find clothes and scrap."

"Alright. Uh, where can we go first?" the synth asked almost eagerly.

“There’s a speakeasy here that may have some intact suitcases. Or maybe that trading shop over there, but by the looks of it, that ain’t no clothing shop.”

“So... speakeasy, then?" Adam asked, looking at the buildings around them.

"Hell fucking yeah. Those places also have cigarette machines. The more, the better," Nigel chuckled.

Both headed to the speakeasy carefully, and when the building's door was opened, Nigel and Adam were greeted by pre-war skeletons frozen in time, coated over with thick layers of dust and neglect.

"That fucker died with a cigarette in his mouth, look," the wastelander commented gleefully, as if the skeletons of the past were nothing more than part of the fun. The room also had natural light coming from the open ceiling, proving the place free of any turrets or traps. For a 200-year-old lounge bar, it looked pretty decent.

"And that one with a beer bottle in his hand," Adam added with a shy smile, making Nigel laugh openly.

"They died happy, that's for sure. Imagine if you're just there, taking a smoke, and then—" the scavver waved his hands, mimicking an explosion, "fucking boom! You're fried alive by radiation! And your bones tell the story even after years and years, entertaining wanderers who pass by."

Adam let out a laugh, tingly in the way Nigel adored it. That was enough for the scavenger to goof around once more, wanting to hear the synth laugh.

"And how terrible would it fucking be to have your poor remains played with, right?" Nigel picked up a skull on the dusty sofa and made it nod in agreement. "Fucking terrible, these wandering bastards. What a shame!"

The synth hid his smile behind his hand but couldn't hold a laugh, making Nigel smile proudly.

"Isn't Adam the smartest synth around, remains of a dead fucker? Does he know it?" The skull nodded once more, and this time Adam both flushed pink and laughed. The sight of him (of this damn angel, so good and so fucking kind) genuinely sharing a good time with Nigel (a worthless wanderer, not good at all for him) made his insides flutter once again.

"Nigel, leave that human skull alone."

"Alright, alright. At least I made you laugh, uh?" Nigel teased, his smile softening towards the young man.

"You make my face get warm. Do you truly think I'm the smartest synth around?" Adam's eyes gleamed with that unknown glint once again, making Nigel's own face flush.

"I think you're brilliant, synth or not. You're... something else, Adam. I'm glad I'm with you right now," the scavver told the synth, suddenly feeling those blue eyes pierce his very soul.

"I... I'm also glad I'm with you, Nigel. You've shown me so many things in such a short time; you give me hope. Doctor Raki said hope is when you feel the next day will be as good as you feel." 

Adam's words were enough for Nigel to realise this hope—a feeling both of them felt ardently—means one major thing.

He wouldn't let Adam go. He had no courage or strength to leave him in that vault. Just the thought of leaving Adam (kind Adam, how could he have fallen so quickly for him?) hurt him in the deepest way possible.

Adam was his hope.

"Adam... I..." Nigel swallowed, "I..." Somehow, convincing Adam to abandon the idea of returning to the vault stuck in his throat. How would he react in the first place? Nigel learned that Adam didn't like change. How could he ask for the synth to stay with him if he didn't even have a home?

Adam wasn't a wanderer. Yet Nigel found hope in Adam and the urge to not let go.

"Nigel...?" Adam asked, sounding worried.

"If I told you I have also found what you feel in you, what would you say?" the scavenger managed to say.

"I... I... I think my eyes... they are malfunctioning," Adam suddenly sniffed, sounding much more emotional than before. Before Nigel could ask what was wrong, Adam spoke again, his voice still trembling but stronger. "Better find out if we can find clothes, yes? Yeah, let's go!" With that, Adam walked away from Nigel, pretending to look for anything in particular.

Nigel had to gather his spiralling thoughts under control before heading ahead. 

"What about this?" Nigel put a single pair of blue sneakers in front of Adam's left foot, the other already clad in a leather boot. Adam nodded absently, still playing with the hem of the worn letterman jacket Nigel found in one of the suburban houses. He was already dressed decently, going from thin briefs and a t-shirt to a brown jumper with a red plaid shirt underneath and a pair of worn blue jeans. The outfit was true to a scavenger; any findings that fit were good enough. 

"Alright, lift your foot for me." With that, Nigel began putting the sneaker on Adam's foot, tying the laces tightly so they wouldn't untie while sprinting.

"Oh, it fits just right," Adam commented, waving his feet around.

"Finally, we got some shoes for you. Now, can you walk?" Nigel asked as he pulled himself off the ground, encouraging Adam to do the same. 

"I think I can." The synth took small baby steps towards Nigel, pouting. "It feels... weird. Comfortable too, but definitely odd." 

"You gotta wear these, or you could fry the soles of your feet on the pavement. Your choice," the scavenger added, raising an eyebrow at Adam.

"Now that you mentioned that, I prefer having shoes on," Adam mused. "It's so impressive how the human race can adapt objects for their own comfort. Beds, seats, shoes, jackets... absolutely impressive!"

Nigel chuckled. "Yeah, humans are some legit weirdos." 

"Are we ever going to... meet other people? I've never seen any humans besides you, Doctor Raki, and those, uh, dead corpses outside," Adam inquired hesitantly, fiddling with his fingers automatically. The wanderer frowned in thought.

"We could go to Diamond City, perhaps. We still have to find you some weapons, and finding one that is in relatively good shape out in the open is fucking tricky. But finding trader posts or going to Diamond City requires legwork. I'm teaching you how to survive, so you need to know how to defend yourself," Nigel concluded. A small pang of fear told him Adam could refuse to waste more time and head on to the vault, making the scavver’s muscles tense almost instantly. He observed the way Adam creased his brow in thought with a sour taste in his mouth. 

"The vault can wait, right? It is better for me to know more about my new engine than to go back now." The way Adam's voice trembled clearly showed distress—leaving the vault and never going back, abandoning Doctor Raki's programming, staying in the Wasteland—the synth was not ready emotionally; Nigel could see it.

Adam was still adapting, learning from experience and from Nigel's advice, yet the wastelander had to remember that Adam was created to stay in the vault, not to be with someone like him, who had no road or plans to follow. He felt a dull pain consume him at the mere thought of making Adam sad. The young man longed for what was meant to be, not for what could be. 

Yet here Nigel was, unable to take his words back. 

"We could get you shooting with my magnum first. It's light, and the recoil won't hurt you. Then I'll teach you where to shoot and when to opt for bullets—sometimes all you need is a good bash in the head and the motherfucker is dead. That way, we can head to Diamond City without putting ourselves in much danger." Nigel managed to erase any unease from his voice, telling Adam their plans as swiftly as he could. 

"And yeah, the vault can wait. I think your doc would appreciate you knowing how to defend yourself first," he concluded, earning a smile from Adam.

"Oh, you're right. So, how do I shoot?" A question like that shouldn't sound so innocent, but Adam had a way to turn words into whatever he wanted. Nigel smiled back, gazing at the synth warmly.

"Let's find out," the wastelander winked.

Chapter Text

The place they found (a testing zone, Nigel explained) was on the suburban outskirts of Concord, right in the ruins of a small park, behind various houses. They had clear shots of old windows and plenty of junk. Nigel took his time placing various items, from rusty buckets to the smallest tin cans, as targets; the distance variance was good enough for a beginner—perfect for an improvised set. When he was satisfied with his work, the scavver took out his three-weapon set (so they could find a perfect fit for Adam) and spread them on one of the benches, displaying them perfectly for the quietly observing synth.

"Alright, first we have to consider your size," Nigel explained, his arms crossed and his eyes watching Adam. "You have a lighter build, so a lighter weapon it is. I could be wrong, of course. I knew some chick back in the day who had her way with a minigun. Now, seeing a small woman running around with a gun like that is scary as fuck."

"So, I will test all three weapons?" Adam asked, curiosity gleaming in his eyes.

"For sure. I'll have to teach you how to hold them and which position's best. It depends on the person, but I think we can sort things out," the wanderer explained as he approached the guns, picking the magnum first.

"This is my 44-calibre magnum. It's quite old-fashioned, the barrel's short, but the grip's really good. This baby is a rarity, we usually see folk using pipe-pistols in the wastes," Nigel pointed out. "Getting one of these is quite a catch. This one I got from a triggerman."

"It's quite small compared to the other ones," the synth commented, eyeing the gun in Nigel's hands.

"I use it for less noise and power. My shotgun can make quite a mess," Nigel chuckled as he set the gun in Adam's uneasy hands. "C'mon, hold it without being scared of it. I took the magazine out."

"It's... a little bit heavy. I thought it was lighter," Adam mused.

"That's a common reaction. Now, hold it like this." The wanderer took Adam's hands in his own, placing the smaller hands in their place carefully.

"That's it, get a nice grip on it. Don't forget that guns have recoil, if you screw up, you'll end up with a black eye or a sore shoulder," Nigel reminded the synth, moving closer to his body so they were aligned.

"I understand," Adam told the scavver. "So I have to hold it like this?"

"Yeah, perfect. Now that you can hold it, let's load this baby up." With that, Nigel took the gun's magazine from his pocket, placing it in Adam's hands.

"I'll take your hand, and you follow my movements, okay?" the scavver instructed.

"Yeah." Adam fiddled with the gun's grip, letting his other hand be guided by Nigel to reload the gun. Nigel did it slowly at first, and then showed it to Adam without the synth holding it. Three tries later, Adam already knew how to restock the magazine, although quite slowly.

"Now hold it again like I told you and shoot that dumpster over there, alright?" Nigel placed his own hands on Adam's for the first try, his body enclosing the other's.

"Take a deep breath first, and try aiming with the little dot on the barrel. Yeah, like this." The wanderer guided Adam's hands to the dumpster. "Hold on real tight, get your aim set, relax."

"I think I get it." Adam's voice trembled just slightly.

"Now, eyes on the target, and shoot."

Bam!

Nigel made sure to hold the moving gun tightly, the recoil affecting Adam's grip, aim, and balance almost instantly. It was quite a shock for the synth, frozen in place as the gun let out smoke.

"You hit it; look at that," Nigel said proudly, more focused on the damage.

"The gun is letting out smoke! Nigel, did you see it?" Adam commented as he examined the chrome end of the Magnum.

"Adam, focus on the target, not the gun."

Of course, he'd be interested in the gun.

"Oh, I hit it." Adam perked up, his eyes gleaming at the target. "I did! I hit the target!"

"With me holding the gun for you," Nigel reminded the synth. "Now let's try it one more time. Hold on to that grip, remember. If not, let me remind you that the ground isn't fucking comfy."

"Affirmative," the synth said as he approached the gun again. "Don't forget to hold my grip, focus on the target, and shoot. I can do that."

"I like your attitude. C'mon, get to your position and fire at that dumpster again.” With that, the pair got in position one more time, ready to shoot.

Bam!

This time, Adam’s body only shook ever so slightly with the recoil's strength, holding more ground than before and getting the bullet nearly where he pointed. Nigel let out a surprised whistle.

"You do have some keen eyes, Adam—not everyone gets it right their first time. Do you think you can do it alone, or do you want me to hold the gun again?"

"I think I can do it alone. After all, this procedure is to allow me to shoot by myself, if I'm not mistaken." Ever so blunt, Adam was right. That made Nigel smile proudly at the synth.

"You got it, darling. Just, uh, don't get yourself hurt. You won't if you keep your feet steady and your hands locked tight," the wanderer explained, this time with something like hesitation or fear bubbling in his gut.

"I promise I'll keep my feet steady and my hands locked tight," Adam parroted, smiling at the wastelander.

"Fuck yeah. Now get that position right, take your time," Nigel said, taking a few steps away from the younger man. "Put your right foot a little bit in the front, bend your elbows like that, yeah, and keep your eyes on the target. Don't lose your grip, alright? Keep those hands locked tight as I told you to."

"Alright." The synth readjusted his hands one more time, rapidly glancing at Nigel as he did so.

"I got you, Adam. Go on," Nigel reassured.

With a quick, shallow intake of air, Adam positioned the gun to the target, the silence growing as Nigel observed the synth's eyes working on the distance.

And without any warning, Adam pressed the trigger.

Bam!

The rapid force of the magnum shook the synth once more, this time allowing the barrel to shoot up and pierce the dumpster way higher than Adam expected it to. Nigel chuckled as he approached the synth, a sympathetic smile appearing from under his beard.

"I... I didn't quite hit where I was pointing at," Adam winced.

"All beginners get the bullets higher than they should at the start. But don't worry, the recoil didn't affect you as much," Nigel reassured the synth. "Go on, one more time. If you want me to hold the gun again, no problem."

"Nigel, I have to do this on my own," the synth responded, narrowing his eyes. "I appreciate your attention, though. It feels nice."

"Everyone likes to be praised," Nigel chucked. "But seriously, you're doing a good job on your first try. At least with my magnum."

"Thank you, then." Adam went back to his position, never stopping to smile at the scavver. The man looked outright gorgeous while holding a gun, watching Nigel with quick glimpses, and pouting his lips in concentration. He was, of course, gorgeous in each and every way possible, but something about gun-wielding angels was a pretty arousing concept for Nigel.

"Nigel, I'm ready," Adam called from his stance. Nigel's mind instantly crashed back to reality, almost making the man flinch.

"Good, good." He cleared his throat. "Yeah, you're good to go. Remember what I said about the recoil?"

"Roger that," the synth said. A moment of silence lingered between them, allowing the whispering wind from the 'wealth to start consuming their surroundings. Again, with no warning, Adam pressed the trigger, and this time he held the gun properly, sending his bullet piercing through not the dumpster but one of the old windows. The loud crash of glass shattering to the ground was over almost the moment it started, ricocheting its noise through Concord's suburbs. 

"Did you miss it, or were you aiming for the window?" Nigel instantly asked, raising his brows to the synth. Adam's response was one of laughter, tingling, and being clearly proud of the destruction.

"I was aiming at the window, actually! Well, I tried a new perspective, and I chose another target. But, Nigel, I hit it! Again!" the synth boasted.

"You do have a good aim, truly," Nigel admitted. "And you held onto the gun too, so yeah, I can properly say that we're making fucking progress here."

Adam beamed.

"I want to try hitting some more targets, so I can properly develop this skill," the synth declared, mostly rambling to himself. Nigel smiled.

"Shooting a window can be really different from shooting a moving, angry enemy. Let's say, If you want to incapacitate the fucker, which part of the body would you shoot at?" Even though Adam was still on the basics, Nigel wanted to teach as much information about survival as he could to the synth, starting off as blunt and sudden as the other's typical questions and answers.

"Uh... it depends on the enemy. I mean, shooting the legs of a human, um," Adam fidgeted for a brief second, trying not to stare at Nigel. "It could become infected, the wound. And the result would be the same as shooting them elsewhere—they'd die."

"You do come up with some tricky answers, uh?" The wastelander approached the synth in slow strides. "But yes, the legs are a good way to cripple your foe. Instant kills are usually in the head and vital areas. But try always aiming for the head."

"The quicker, the better?" Adam asked.

"You learn fast," Nigel commented. "Now, get those bullets in your targets. After that, we'll try out the other weapons."

Needless to say, the scavenger was fucking impressed. A feeling he had barely felt after Gabi warmed his thoughts. It was the feeling of bliss, of having someone to take care of and to shower with love; because after all, Nigel couldn't hold back for Adam, the one he was so afraid to let go of. Watching Adam celebrate his hits and get even better at wielding the magnum was like a fevered dream, and, for a moment, he forgot about his worries. Because in these forgotten ruins of a town, in the talons of dirt and misery of the Commonwealth, he taught Adam how to survive, sharing with him this feeling of bliss that consumed Nigel like a light dose of jet, just enough for him to get his mind away from reality and instead, to play along with it.

This reality of his, of this world where killing was a must, where guns were essential, and what was good had long rotted away, didn't fit Adam. In this deadly wasteland—expanding miles and miles away, gathering with its dust a broken society, suffering yet yearning to heal—Nigel found nothing but misery, but Adam saw a side of the Commonwealth he had never truly understood.

From the brittle grounds to the tallest tree, Adam saw beauty in them and life—something so abundant yet so scarce at the same time. Maybe Nigel was just a pessimist, choosing to live in decay all because he had been bursting with negative feelings for years.

After Gabi, he lost this bliss, and all he could see was ashes. The ashes of a broken life, of his broken promises and wishes.

Maybe he brought this misery upon himself, after all. He was as bad as the unforgiving wasteland itself.

And even when the feeling was still strong as ever, bubbling in his gut as he held Adam as tightly as he could (the synth's shoulder was probably bruised after some tries with the shotgun), he couldn't help but smile, enjoying every moment of tutoring this angel. Adam was, in fact, a quick learner, but the mighty recoil of Nigel's preferred gun was too much for his rather skinny arms to handle.

They ended up resting after excluding the shotgun from Adam's weapon list, refreshed after a nice dose of clean water and bellies full of the Mac and cheese from the night before.

"At least I got to shoot all of the windows," Adam commented as they finished packing, ready for the third weapon. Nigel's machete wasn't exactly light, but melee fights happened often enough, and the scavenger couldn't help but teach the synth how to deal some damage.

"If you had a wastelander name, it'd probably be Window-Crasher. Or Mac, short for Mac and cheese," the scavenger laughed as he packed his bug-out bag. Adam frowned.

"Do wastelanders give each other weird names?"

"You won't believe the creativity people have when it comes to codenames and stuff. Hell, I was once called Smoke-Shot because they found me smoking while on patrol. There's other names too, but that's how the wastes are." He shrugged. "Everything has to have a fucking nickname."

"That's odd. But funny, in a way," Adam hummed. "So they name people for what they resemble, or just because of their likes?"

"Well, those people have to have hobbies, anyway." Nigel stood up as he spoke. "Now, Window-Crasher, shall we resume our little class? We still have plenty of sunlight, and I ain't done without you showing me how to swing that machete."

"Don't call me that." The synth couldn't hold back a smile as he watched the man. "I think I'm very happy being just Adam."

"Alright, just Adam."

Adam's cheeks instantly turned pink.

"No, my name's Adam, not just Adam. I mean, you have to take out the just so you-"

"Darling, I'm just joking with you." The scavver smiled, slightly amused by Adam's erratic response.

"Oh... Oh. You were teasing me." Adam's pouting wasn't from annoyance but from confusion. Nigel brushed the synth off with a small chuckle.

"C'mon, let's get you swinging this baby up."

"Alright." Both Wastelander and Synth headed again to the ruined park, cornering a tree cluster right next to the broken swings. Nigel swayed the machete in his hands, showing the blade off to Adam.

"Now I want you to hit those trees with this. If you don't get used to the machete's weight, we'll buy you a hunting knife in Diamond City," the wastelander said as he placed the weapon in Adam's hands, letting the young man get used to its handle.

"It's quite heavy," Adam commented, his eyes never ceasing to gleam in curiosity.

"Yeah, I thought so. Try swinging it a few times; see if you can manage to."

Adam's response was, in a word, sudden, and it came in the form of a clumsy but rapid blow to one of the nearest tree trunks, all while giving Nigel a taste of his (rather intimidating) war cry.

Again, he had to stop doubting Adam fucking Raki.

Pleased with his mark, the synth pulled back the now stuck machete, smiling.

"...Well, aren't you full of surprises?" Nigel mustered.

"Wielding this weapon strains my arms a little bit, though," Adam replied. "But I think I can swing it, yes. Although I'm rather sloppy."

"We'll find you a lighter melee weapon, don't worry." As always, the synth was analytical above all else, but in his even speech, Adam never ceased to smile or show his true emotions through his gleaming sky-blue eyes. It was a habit Nigel loved; Adam was like a chem he couldn't shake off.

"So... we're heading to Diamond City after here?" The scavenger could sense a tinge of anxiety in Adam's tone.

"Like I said, we have to buy you equipment. And no place is better than Diamond City in terms of shopping." Nigel paused, softening his eyes and voice. "Don't worry, our little road trip will last three and a half days at most. We're not that far."

Deep inside, he knew bringing Adam to Diamond City was partially caused by his own selfish reasons—he could barely comprehend how he'd live on, leaving Adam and this small, precious spark of life within his weary soul behind. How would he wonder aimlessly, knowing he had another choice?

Would he fade once again, having no purpose; nothing to cling to but this dreadful life and his fucking misery?

He knew the answer, of course.

He'd die one day, maybe shot or from exhaustion, hungry and empty, stripped away from his few belongings and left in the open, bleeding.

And he'd blend in with the wasteland ashes, just like it was meant to be. No grave, no memory. Just him and this blasted wasteland.

But, wanted or not, Adam was his road now, and he would fucking stick to it.

"Oh, we'll head to Diamond City, then," the synth mumbled to himself, his eyes shining anew.

"We fucking will, Adam. Now, practice those swings one more time," Nigel concluded, his voice tight but his spirits lifted.

Dawn was a time of the day Nigel found to be (though he wouldn't admit it) magical; even when he knew magic, fairies and true love kisses were fucking hogwash.

It was the time when the ever-so-helpful sun blended with Adam's dear stars in the sky. It was also the time when they set foot on the road to Diamond City, following a different path—now going in the shadow of one of the main elevated highways that travelled across Boston. He explained his choice to the (as always) curious synth, telling him about the dangers lurking inside the cities and how crossing the Tucker Memorial Bridge was the best choice.

They'd contour the outskirts of Cambridge, following the water 'til Boston's West End edges, and from there, they'd head right. It wasn't the quickest way to get to the Great Green Jewel, but damn sure it was the safest. Nigel could barely handle the thought of running into danger while Adam travelled along with him.

Maybe he would finally explain the little bits and pieces of what he knew about the old world to Adam as they met at new locations.

In the foggy start of the day, they set out to follow the asphalt road, leaving behind Concord's ruins, after a good night of sleep and, also, more mac and cheese. The sun was hidden in the fog and in the pink, pale sky, gleaming softly on the wastes. Nigel took a deep breath, enjoying the serene silence of the waking Commonwealth. Adam walked along with him, minding his steps over the craters made by the broken asphalt and the puddles of mud that dotted the landscape. The air was quite humid in the fog, hinting that maybe heavy clouds would appear as the day settled and rain would pour out of the sky, washing the dust away and rusting metals all around the Commonwealth.

With the road under their feet, time seemed to fly by. Sometimes they slowed down so Adam could gaze at abandoned buildings or something that caught his attention, like distant electrical towers and clusters of suburban houses.

He'd have his fair share of questions and answers after looking at so many different things, and for once, Nigel let the other ramble to his heart's content. Not that he wasn't already letting Adam share with him his favourite subjects—no, he had already let the synth immerse himself in his unique ideas and facts for a little while now.

Being honest with himself, Nigel could spend days just listening to this gorgeous angel speak.

As the morning grew brighter and hotter, they had already reached a rotten landfill, where a few scraps could be found and shelter was, thankfully, available in the form of an old (and rather fucking tiny) pre-war shack. Inside, nothing but old, empty file cabinets and the remains of a terminal resided. Nigel tsked as he approached the carcass of said tech, knowing too well the scavengers had long scrapped the thing away. His stash of caps wasn’t abundant, but to buy Adam good equipment, he would have to give most of it away. Though, in fact, he didn't fucking care about caps anymore, after all he'd been through. Once, he thought the other way around: caps meant chems, booze, and influence.

What caps meant to him now were a memory of his past.

"What's this?" Curious as always, Adam was already nudging around the place, in hopes of finding something interesting. He waved a rolled, yellowed newspaper to Nigel, eyeing it with wonder.

"That's a newspaper. Pre-war junk," Nigel answered while also looking around.

"Alaska, recently reclaimed by the U.S. from the Chinese on January 10, 2077, still stirs our nation to the brink of war; conflict rises, even after eleven years. October 23rd, 2077, article by Jonathan R. Wallace," Adam read, frowning. "Shortage of major resources leads to another riot in central Boston, government assures everything is in order, dismissing complaints over Boston's most notable energy resource, the nuclear-energy corporation Mass Fusion, full article on page four." Peeking his eyes up, the synth beamed. "These are events that happened over two hundred years ago! Look, Nigel, there's so much information on their lifestyle and the occurrences happening in that year—this is not junk, this is a relic!"

Of course.

"Well, you found yourself something to entertain yourself while we eat, uh?" Nigel raised his brow at the yellow, crumpled paper. "October 23rd... Yep, that's the day the bombs dropped. You can find these newspapers everywhere, saying the same things."

"I'll expand my knowledge with these newspapers and hopefully learn more about our surroundings and how technology, science, and astronomy evolved during those years." Adam seemed to ignore Nigel's voice, fully focused on his activity. "This can be a major asset to my studies; I can use information that was lost over the years to upgrade and broaden my field of knowledge, and hopefully recreate equipment that was lost, such as a telescope and even a full sized observatory. This is great!"

Nigel blinked at the man, his emotions ranging from amusement to sheer admiration. Adam, as always, impressed him in ways the scavenger couldn't comprehend.

The amount of joy Adam relished in, just by looking at the waste’s junk, was downright hypnotic, and instead of annoying him, it brought him that familiar bliss he so craved for.

Only Adam could make Nigel this fucking soppy.

"This is great, Adam. Truly," the wanderer sincerely told the synth, never allowing his eyes to leave Adam's precious smile.

"Oh, can I have some mac and cheese? My stomach is making weird, grumbling noises." Adam, ever so bluntly, expressed his needs to Nigel without a second thought, and as always, his eyes gleamed. "And can I have some water too? My mouth is quite dry. Oh, I forgot to say, please. Please?"

Honestly, if Nigel's cheeks hurt at the end of the day, it was because he was smiling so goddamn much.

Chapter Text

Quite honestly, Nigel didn't expect the damn rain to catch them this quickly. It wasn't a pleasant surprise for him, but for Adam—well, Adam was easy to please. Rain was something new to him, after all.

Nigel cursed under his breath as he felt the first raindrops splash on his hair. Getting soaked by cold drizzles of water while wearing his gear was not what he had hoped for; his mood always went sour after literally getting bathed by a foul, freezing shower. Adam, on the other hand, relished this new discovery, watching the raindrops fall out of the heavens with big, calculating eyes.

"The clouds are shedding water... Is this what rain is, Nigel?" the synth asked, still admiring the weeping sky. An errant raindrop interrupted Adam's gazing abruptly, making the other let out a surprised gasp.

"I have to remember to buy you a pair of goggles," the scavver commented, an amused chuckle lingering in his voice. Adam wiped his eyes with one hand, frowning at the light sting.

"Goggles?"

"Eye-protection, darling. It'll help you see stuff without you having to rub your eyes after."

"Oh. I want to have these goggles, then. Rain. It's raining, right?" Adam asked once more, still rubbing his eyes.

"Yep. And it ain't no warm rain, either. I think we ought to find shelter if it gets worse."

"It's quite... cold. The raindrops." To show what he meant, Adam hugged his arms close to himself. Nigel could see the synth's curls starting to sparkle with water, as could the land around them. As light as the raindrops were, they stung coldly in each tiny splatter. 

"Let's see if we can pass through the Tucker Memorial Bridge before the rain thickens; after that, we'll be right on the outskirts of Cambridge," Nigel concluded, also hugging his coat closer to his body. "There's plenty of shelter near Charlestown, and raiders don't roam around too far in that area. C'mon, let's hurry the fuck up."

Even with shorter strides, Adam still kept up with Nigel, sometimes stumbling lightly when his feet were caught on the broken terrain. The clouds in the sky gave them an impression of darkness—thick, grey, and ominous, covering the pale sun like heavy curtains, allowing the freezing breeze to chill their very bones. After half an hour, Nigel knew they had to stop. He was still going strong, of course, but Adam's violent shivers and the blue tinge to his lips couldn't be ignored for much longer.

In those moments, he remembered Adam's inexperience in the real world, shivering cold because of the foul rain when any other wastelander would keep on walking, freezing or not. Nigel's people—caravan workers, scavengers, and wastelanders—knew really well how to overcome their needs. How to be resilient like true children of the wastes. He didn't enjoy seeing Adam learn how to be like one of them. There was nothing noble about being a wastelander.

So when he saw a perfect resting spot, just by the shadows of the elevated highways and perfect for a fire, he stopped, waiting for Adam to take his downcast eyes from the ground.

"Here, let's start a fire and get warmed up. You ain't looking too good, Adam," Nigel sincerely told the synth, his concern showing in his darkened features. Adam sniffed, slowly looking at the scavenger with dull, unfocused eyes. His whole body was shivering slightly, and even if their clothes weren't dramatically damp, Nigel knew Adam's poor reaction to cold had to be worked with.

"Shit, come here, take your jacket off." Nigel was interrupted by a frowning synth.

"No, you told me the jacket helps me get warm; why would I-"

"It's wet, damnit! Give it to me," Nigel explained impatiently, his hand still extended to Adam.

"But it doesn't make sense for me to take my jacket off when you're going to be the one starting the fire, meaning that I'll be standing here doing nothing but enduring this rain without even my single warmth resource, wet or not!" Adam snapped, his wet face turning into an angry scowl as his speech gained pace. The scavenger closed his mouth, never expecting Adam to show his annoyance so easily. If he hit a nerve or Adam became a very grumpy synth while wet and cold, he'd question that another time.

"Jesus, calm down. You're really articulate when you're angry, you know?" Nigel scoffed. He kept his narrowed eyes on Adam, who groaned.

"I am not angry, just uncomfortable," the synth replied.

"Well then, welcome to humanity," the wastelander waved his hand without enthusiasm. "Where do we get to fucking wait so I can get this fire going and our clothes dry. If you keep that on, you'll catch a cold, you hear me? And I won't be wiping snot out of your fucking nose."

"So why didn't you explain to me first that keeping my jacket on will increase my chances of catching a cold instead of just growling out orders?” Adam argued back, his eyes still very sharp for Nigel’s taste.

“I... I just want you to be fine, alright?” Nigel admitted, choosing to avert his eyes from the synth. Exhaling, the scavenger scanned the wet ground, his temper cooling down like the cold, stinging droplets of water. “I’ll start a fire right there, and if you don’t want to take your damn jacket off, that’s okay. I won’t force you.”

“I still don’t understand," Adam pressed on, his voice going from sharp to a quiet, softer tone. "Without my jacket, I'd still be cold, even if I weren't wet anymore. And starting a fire takes a little time. What was your plan, Nigel?"

"I... I'd... I thought we could share our body heat and..."

And he got so nervous and worried around Adam that he freaking came up as a rude bastard. He was never good with words, and his actions, well, they were worse.

"Oh..." Adam's exclamations always brought a tingly feeling to his stomach. "I understand now. You'd share your body heat with me so I can wait for the fire more comfortably, and with the jacket, I'd risk catching a cold."

"Uh, yeah... I just, damn. You can choose if you actually want to share body heat with me, of course. I should already be starting the fire by now; the wind is still kicking and we're here moping." Trying to brush off Adam had worked before at the very start of their journey, but when he felt cold hands touch his—light as a feather and able to raise the small hairs on his neck—he knew this time, the synth was having none of it. Nigel slowly looked back at Adam, trying to keep his gaze lowered down, as if he were looking directly into the sun. He didn't meet the glowing orb but instead saw Adam's bright eyes examining him closely, his serene face framed by glistening droplets of water, shining weakly even in their bleak, dark surroundings.

"If you show me how one shares body heat, I accept your proposition," Adam said ever so lightly. "I'm starting to realise the cold numbed my fingers, too."

Nigel gave in to a small, breathy laugh, letting his own fingers find Adam's cold ones. He was much warmer than the boy, even if he had neither gloves nor a jumper to keep heat inside. His rough hands enveloped smaller, silky ones, lending warmth within seconds. The synth watched in silence, his eyes cast under gleaming dark lashes. Proceeding with his care (Adam had not pulled away, so the scavver was happy to continue on without apprehension), Nigel took those hands close to his mouth, and then blew hot air on the warming fingers until they were hot and damp.

"I didn't know we could do that." Adam realised this, gently pulling his warmed hands to his own mouth.

"When there's no fire, or when your fingers are too numb for you to make one, try that; it helps." The scavenger blew his own fingers to show what he meant.

"Truly remarkable..." The synth continued blowing hot air, gradually smiling as he felt the tips of his fingers’ functions come back. "The human body is so complex, being able to create warmth just by exhaling in a certain way."

"I'm glad I can still teach stuff to you." Nigel, feeling his beard-covered cheeks burn slightly, smiled along. "Remember back in the lab, when we stayed close for a while and you said we both got really warm? That's what sharing body heat is."

"Oh! It's true; we both got really warm together. Let's do that again; the cold is really uncomfortable."

Moving a little bit stiffly, Nigel slowly got closer to the synth, touching his jacket lightly.

"Can I...?" Words got stuck in the scavver's mouth. Adam nodded, shedding the jacket by himself. The synth's skin peeking from his brown jumper and plaid shirt was tight and covered in tiny bumps, slightly red from the cold but still pale and different from Nigel's bruised and tanned flesh. Without the jacket, Adam shivered, instantly bringing his arms close to himself for warmth.

"Come on now, you're stronger than this wind," Nigel joked, earning a small chuckle from the synth. He then opened his coat, and much to Adam's surprise, he led the man close to his own body, practically hiding Adam underneath his coat.

"Better now?" Feeling the synth's body quit shaking, Nigel gradually let himself relax, enjoying the growing warmth. It was a rather humorous pose, certainly, as if Nigel could hide Adam from the world like a fucking human shield. The synth's pleased hums could be heard from under his clothing.

"Very much so," Adam giggled, snuggling closer to Nigel's body. The scavenger felt his cheeks burn more ardently, knowing very well he was blushing. People like him, all worn by life and scarred beyond help, didn't feel the need to blush and giggle over nothing. Yet here he was, with an angel under his tattered coat, feeling the waste's wind and rain become much lighter, as if its spirits whispered good things instead of the usual whistle of death.

He let himself caress Adam's back, feeling the warm skin under the palms of his hands. He even stroked those brown curls, damp and smooth, still as soft as Adam's whole body. There, he thought, there it was—the feeling he couldn't put a name to bubbling inside him, tearing him from the inside, begging for him to never let go.

Adam; lovely, kind, Adam.

Nigel dry-swallowed, his eyes stinging suddenly. He let his head bob up to the sky - the grey clouds were still shedding foul tears on the great, blasted wasteland, washing away dust and grime from his face and the land he belonged to. For just a minute, he let his mind be free from its troubles and worries, forgetting his surroundings until all he could feel was Adam. His smell, his weight, his breathing—him.

Adam.

The sun was melting away on the fog-covered horizon when Adam and Nigel resumed their journey, leaving behind the shadows of elevated highways when the rain had ceased and their clothes were finally dry. It had been a peaceful little stop. Nigel enjoyed, for once, the sound of rain splattering on the concrete and earth around him, soothing as it could be. His duty was simply to keep the fire going while Adam, on the other side, kept his eyes mapping the Commonwealth and occasionally on the fire, silently watching the flames go dancing upwards, until they disappeared into the thick air.

The sight of those beautiful, full-of-wonder eyes, always lighting up when the scavenger nudged the firepit with a stick, sending embers flying in the air like fiery stars, was all worth it. Even when they were set and the firepit was long left behind, Nigel still saw the melting fire mix with the synth's blue irises in his mind, glowing orange and yellow in perfect harmony, like a reminder of warmth and peace.

It was still fucking unbelievable—Adam's presence felt little by little more welcoming around Boston and its wasteland, floating around with this feeling of hope, as delicate and fragile as it was. So delicate, even Nigel hesitated to approach, only watching from a distance, like an unwanted guest. These fragments of peace, as precious as they were, were only enjoyable under closed eyes. Once awake, he had to focus back on reality, where the weeping land waited to see him come back, as always.

The road ahead was still foggy and cold even without the insistent rain, making the trees look haunting beneath the sun's pale light, their branches thin and dripping with water. The air became noticeably damp too, and Nigel couldn't place the blame on the rain completely; they were near the Charles River (the one intersecting Charlestown from Cambridge's outskirts), close enough for Adam to feel the breeze coming from the great mass of water.

It was heavily polluted, ugly, and full of debris, but Adam—again, much to Nigel's amusement—was easy to please. He could relish all day long in the synth's awed expression, too bright for such a shitty, full-of-rads river.

"Can we go near the water? I want to see it closely," Adam asked on one occasion, too oblivious to understand that snooping around was not in their immediate plans.

"Absolutely-fucking-not."

"Why not?" The synth never took offence at Nigel's strict rules, but that couldn't stop him from asking away.

"One word: mirelurks. Those nasty fuckers are hostile when you approach their territory, and their fucking offspring are a pain in the ass." Nigel grimaced, snarling at the shore. "Better off leaving those crabs in the water. We ain't having seafood for dinner, anyway."

"Alright..." Adam pouted in thought as he jumped out of a rock's path. "Maybe when we cross the bridge, I can see the water more closely. It's a bridge, and they're above ground level, according to my data."

"Can't argue with that," the scavver shrugged. "Just don't lean on the bridge when we get there; there's no need for another bath today."

"Point taken. My body has no experience when it comes to swimming, meaning it would sink and my lungs would probably fill with water, resulting in drowning." The synth's mumbling was cut short by a sudden cough.

"Nigel? Are you alright? Have you contracted that disease you were talking about?"

"Nah," Nigel laughed between a grunt, bringing his hands towards his face in an attempt to hide it. "I'm fine. Just don't keep your head in these fucking dangerous thoughts. Leave that to me."

"Oh, OK. I'll wait until we cross the bridge then, the water is really pretty."

"I guess to you, even a rads-filled river is pretty enough." With another shrug, the scavver kept rambling, "I don't have much to say when it comes to environmental prettiness."

"You mean aesthetics?" Adam offered with a small, amused smile.

"Yeah, uh, that word." Whatever it fucking meant, Adam must know better than him.

"Can you give me some examples, then? I'd like to know what you perceive as aesthetically pleasing." As light as they were, Adam's questions were different from many Nigel had listened to. They weren't about caps, whores, or anything belonging to the wastes, of course. They were simple, blunt, and very difficult to respond to, even for a man like him. These were the moments the wastelander felt didn't belong in their situation, as frequent as they were. Adam's curiosity was a truly remarkable thing.

"Uh. That depends, really." Nigel took his time to think, lighting up a cigarette on the way. "I used to think the lights outside my Goodneighbour apartment were nice—all neon hot, blinking in the streets at night. But that doesn't strike me as pretty. The truth is, I don't find beauty in things the way you do, kid."

"How so?" the synth wondered.

"Guess I like the sight of cold beer, plenty of cigarettes, and things like that. More for my pleasure, you know?"

"Interesting," Adam nodded along, thinking. "You perceive beauty in what you love, such as a good meal or cigarettes. You care more about what's good for you, so beauty is portrayed that way, in your mind. Humans are truly different when it comes to thinking patterns."

"I couldn't have said it any better." Nigel smiled between whiffs. "When I think something is pretty, I mean it. I ain't got time to share my love around."

"Do you think of humans as pretty?"

That question was as swift as a blow to his gut, earning Nigel a few coughs. If anything could be called pretty for him, that'd be his wife. Not pretty, but fucking outstandingly gorgeous. There was nothing—not even cigarettes, good food—more beautiful to him than the one he gave his heart to.

Yet she didn't come to mind when he thought of beauty this time. She was still there, along with the hurt and anger from letting her go. It still throbbed like a nasty wound, always pulling his mind back to it. But as honest as he could be, Adam's precious smiles were beginning to overpower Gabi's serene ones. He was the one he thought of when beauty came to his mind now. He was there, not as a blur, but as a beacon of light.

How fucking unbelievable of him to fall so easily for someone from another world. A world Nigel would never step into, fearing he'd taint such raw beauty and hope.

"Nigel?" Adam called him back softly. The older man's eyes were on the wastes, before closing them.

"I had a wife once. She was the most gorgeous person I've ever laid eyes on," Nigel explained, his voice much rougher than before. Adam seemed to process what he said, judging by the way his blue eyes shone.

"Socially speaking, finding your partner attractive is quite an important feature, I guess," Adam said in thought. "Even in the animal kingdom, most find their partners based on attraction and looks."

"Guess you can say it like that," the scavenger sighed, "but she's gone now. It doesn't matter anymore."

"Oh... I'm... Sorry." Adam sounded truly apologetic and even confused, based on Nigel's assumptions. As if death or the loss of someone important was still a fresh concept, alien yet terrifyingly real.

Doctor Raki's name felt like a cold gust of wind around them. Whispering and vague.

"I told you it doesn't matter now. She ain't dead, if that's what popped inside your head. Just left," Nigel explained without taking his eyes off the road. It was a weird feeling—telling someone Gabi was a ghost of his past now—because for years, Nigel's place in the world was intertwined with his wife.

It was him and her, her and him, in this together. Like that couple from the old world, thick as thieves, fucking Bonnie and Clyde.

It was almost laughable, because those fantasies were so different from what he ended up with. But somehow, it didn't sting so much anymore. Adam felt like a damn stimpack, clearing his mind from the pain.

"Uh..." The synth fidgeted; it was obvious he knew he’d landed in some troubled waters. Asking away about other trivial stuff wasn't complicated. Landing on personal shit was. And he could see it—even smell the tension in the air.

"Hey, don't feel bad because you got me speaking about touchy stuff. That happens, Adam," Nigel reassured the man. "I suppose it's fair for you to know more about me. Fucking hell, I was caught rummaging through your stuff."

"I, well," Adam stuttered, "I'm sorry your wife has left you. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I know some questions may trigger emotional responses."

"Ain't your fault. I know I also upset people sometimes. But you didn't upset me, Adam." The scavver let his eyes travel to Adam's, earning a smile. "You just made me realise I'm not holding on to the past anymore."

"I suppose that's a good thing," the synth offered. "Moving on is the first step to change. I don't usually deal very well with it."

"Me too," Nigel chuckled. "I think if I didn't dwell on the fucking past so much, I'd be able to give my feet some rest. Wandering is a pain in the ass."

"Sometimes I think you're so different from me, Nigel. But I guess we have that in common." Adam let out a happy sigh. Nigel sighed along, feeling his lungs expand and inhale the soft, mild breeze of the river. The sky was already opening up, showing brightness, while its melancholic clouds slowly scattered the pale heavens, settling down for the upcoming dusk. The sun's faint orange gleam felt like a warm caress, especially after the rain, where the humid breeze was cold and their surroundings damp.

He could see a big, collapsed shell of a house in the distance, a ruin close to the Tucker Bridge, and the curves of the plain, country-style buildings surrounding Charlestown and the outskirts of Cambridge. It meant they were close, and so was their destination. He could even see Bunker Hill on the horizon, a place he chose to avoid for personal reasons.

Nigel knew Darko liked to be around there, as his wife's trading post was located in that specific settlement. Bunker Hill wasn't as big as Diamond City, but humans were trying their best to form a decent, tidy village there, and Nigel sure knew Adam would love to stop by and see how wastelanders interacted with each other. Hell, he could even drop by and drink something strong, maybe moonshine or whiskey, to get his worries off of his head.

Of course, that was out of their fucking plans. Nigel had no goddamn intentions of stumbling into Darko along with Adam. And Diamond City was the best settlement in goddamn miles, anyway.

If Adam had to see what humanity was for the first (and last) time, he had to show him at least what true hope meant, as struggling as it could be. To let him see the best a wastelander city had to offer.

"We’re almost there," Nigel pointed out, hearing Adam walk over to his side. "See those ruins upfront? Take a few more minutes, and we are going through the bridge."

"I can see buildings in the distance; look!" The synth raised himself to his toes for a better look; the fog still ate half of the scenery away, but from here, they could figure out what was ahead. From the smallest suburban houses to the greatest, faraway skyscrapers, there stood the other side of the Commonwealth, as glorious as could be.

"That's Boston for you." Nigel stopped along with Adam, enjoying the glimpse of the ruins. "Damn, it's easy to forget how big this place is."

"And it's difficult to imagine how you have probably walked all of it," Adam added in awe.

"You give me too much credit. But yeah, I have no fucking idea how I'm still alive."

"I'm glad you still are, I really enjoy your company." Nigel would've probably imagined a blush creeping around Adam's cheeks as he told him that, with that sly, timid smile of his. Instead, he could feel his own face light up, bringing a smirk across his lips.

With the sun setting like that, giving them warmth after rain, and embracing both of them as they watched the Commonwealth gleam in the distance, it truly made Nigel believe in something above the filth and remaining humanity that mocked him, in the simple, beautiful relief of healing. Just to be next to Adam, gazing at the past and seeing the future, made something inside of him yearn to fight, to see the day Adam would be granted more than his ties to the wasteland. It was a fierce thing, dawning with fire and burning all his pain to a crisp, letting Nigel see more than mistakes made long ago.

"Okay, now let's go before the sun fucks off. We need to find some shelter soon while there’s still light, "the wanderer said, tearing his eyes away from Adam’s serene face. The synth nodded along before leaving Nigel’s side after a final smile.

Continuing their journey, after whatever blessed them while they watched, they felt lighter now. Nigel had no one to give thanks to, but that fucking sun-star thing in the sky Adam loved so damn much.

Chapter Text

After a moderate walk, passing by the rubble of what once was the face of American suburbia, their best choice of shelter happened to be an off-road diner small enough for Nigel to deem safe but not dilapidated to the point of ruin. There was nothing remarkable about it, which was perfect for keeping their profiles low and under a warranty of safety. But of course, there was a catch to it; he’d not comment out loud, but Nigel was keen on finding a particular match for the next shelter. One that could grant him what he promised his inquisitive travel companion: a chance to learn new things. Adam deserved to know everything Nigel could show him, be it as insignificant as it may be. No amount of reasoning could convince him not to give Adam a chance at... living? Of enjoying life’s little pleasures? Whatever it was, Nigel was glad to indulge in it. Because nothing beats the sensation of seeing dear Adam smile and see hope, of all things, twinkle in his bright blue eyes.

There came the ugly, greedy longing to see Adam’s starstruck eyes after his promise to deliver the young man safe to his vault, and Nigel knew, clear as day, that he would not keep to his word. There was no will in him to do so. For now, he’d delude himself just a little bit more. Nothing else mattered but Adam, and Adam was his number one priority as of late. Sweet, gorgeous, and wonderful, Adam.

He begged whatever was out there that his little plan would work, almost resorting to some silly prayer he picked up from somewhere that involved holy fathers or something ominous of the sort. It all depended on the jukebox he eyed in the ruined diner. If the speakers and powerbox were still in one piece, as they usually were, he could crank some tunes from the machine. Nigel thanked whoever wanted these jukeboxes to withstand atomic annihilation when, upon inspection, they looked just right.

Adam, observant as he was, only let his share of questions known when he saw Nigel fiddling with an odd piece of machinery, now noticing how giddy the other seemed to find it still in operation. He gingerly made his way to the wastelander, taking a closer look at them both.

“What is that, Nigel? I’m not familiar with this piece of tech.” Adam inquired, curiosity ever present in his tone of voice. Nigel felt his giddiness grow, and he let his smile turn even wider. Adam noticed more stained, crooked teeth than usual in Nigel’s grin and let his own smile upturn his lips.

“ Well…” Nigel dragged his words in a playful banter, looking less weary with such a lightened mood. “I promised I’d teach you something a little while ago. Remember when I said there’s something we can do when we find things like radios, jukeboxes, that sort of stuff?”

With the mention of learning something new, Adam’s expression lit up as brightly as he felt within. 

“Oh, oh! Yes, back in Concord, you told me if we ever found those items, you’d teach me what you could with them.” Adam’s brilliant eyes darted to the machine beside Nigel. “Is that one of the items you mentioned, Nigel?”

“This here,” The wastelander patted the obfuscated glass from the machine’s top, “Is a jukebox. Lotsa these around the wastes; most work fine and dandy even though Uncle Sam’s in the shits,” Nigel huffed with a smug-sounding laugh. “Even trying to tear one of these down is harder than it looks. At least they entertain whoever gets one running.”

“Jukebox, jukebox…” The synth man made quite the adorable face, gasping in delight when the word finally took meaning. “Oh yeah! They play music, right? Like the radio Doctor Raki used to have in the vault, it used to play such beautiful-sounding melodies.”

By beautiful sounding, Nigel would place Adam’s voice at the top of the charts. But jamming to some catchy tunes was more in his line of thinking when music was involved.

“Guess I won’t have to teach you what music is, then,” he added. It was Adam’s turn to let out a small laugh. A soft little bell-like laugh so different from Nigel’s gruff and hoarse ones. It was so outstandingly charming.

“Doctor Raki always tuned his radio to ‘classical music’, with composers such as Vivaldi and Bach. They died so long ago... It's a wonder to know their masterpieces are still listened to in this very day and age.” Adam was always very fluent when the topic required brains. Mentioning classical music made Nigel hesitate for a moment—he was pretty sure he never tuned to the classical station in all his thirty-something years.

“Uh, I haven’t listened to these guys much. To be honest with ya, I don’t really know what they sound like.” He sheepishly admitted, his laugh now sounding a bit awkward in his ears. “I only knew what people listened to, what made ‘em find the boogie and get their groove on. What plays on the biggest stations, you know?”

“I... don’t, actually.” Adam replied with the same tinge of awkwardness. “I don’t think Doctor Raki ever referred to any song as ‘groovy’.”

“That means I can teach you what groovy means, uh?” Nigel smoothly adhered in, “You get your groove on, and I get to know what ‘beautiful sounding’ music is. What do you think?”

By the way Adam’s smile tripled in size, he must have struck a pretty good deal.

“Is this why you looked content to see the jukebox working as intended, Nigel? To show me what this ‘groove’ is?” Adam, smart as he was, figured him out quite easily. However, he felt no shame in showing Adam a good time, because if there were activities still enjoyable for every wastelander out and about, dancing to a catchy tune was definitely on the list. He cut some of the other parts involved, such as drinking booze and, in his case, using chems to get high. Heavens knew he’d never push Adam to poison his brand new body with junk.

But yes, Adam was too smart for his own good. Which made the scavver even prouder.

“Ah, Adam. You know you’re right.” Nigel let his mirth mingle back into his tone of voice. “I wanted to keep my promise from back then, you know. I ain’t the most honest man, but I aim to please.”

Hiding a small chuckle over his hand, Adam seemed glad to hear it. “You’re always trying to make me feel good, Nigel. I really appreciate that you kept that promise.”

Somewhere in the back of his head, Nigel lamented if he could keep the most important one: to get Adam locked away from the wastes and to part ways for good. He brushed the horrifying feeling of doom aside and continued to smile.

“I try my best to see you living your best, darling.” The endearing pet name seemed so natural, he let it slip without a second thought. He knew it was only a matter of time before Adam’s name accompanied words like gorgeous or doll. He already let them take over in his damn thoughts, for starters.

Adam’s smile turned coy, and his pale cheeks flushed a light shade of pink. Not used to not knowing what to say, Adam let his answer be another shy little chuckle.

“I… Well. For that, I thank you.”

“You don’t have to, Adam.” It felt as easy as breathing to keep showering Adam with compliments and flirts, so Nigel kept pushing their limits and testing the waters. “You deserve to be happy and to live happily, you know. To learn your things, to see what you want and what you love. I mean it.”

Those blue eyes, never ceasing to twinkle in curiosity, somehow turned downcast for the moment. Nigel mentally cursed, frowning as well. 

“Nigel, I don’t... I don’t want to sound rude or insensitive. But every time you tell me I deserve these things, I feel like—like you deserve them as much as I do.” Adam’s tone was solid, loud, and clear. Usually, the synth never bites back the wary quake in his voice. This time, however, Nigel realised he had never heard Adam speak so confidently. “You tell me time and time again that I deserve to be alive and to live well, even as far back as when I was in my prototype body. And at the same time, I hear you tell me over and over again how you only survive out there and that you are not glad to be alive. That… You are not pleased with life. I don’t want to be the only one feeling happy when you’ve told me you are not. I…” Adam let out a small sigh. “I want you to be pleased about life too, Nigel. I told you that.”

Something like a punch in the gut was similar to what Nigel felt at the moment, leaving him winded. His thoughts spiralled, as did the jumbled words in his throat. A part of him wanted to snarl and yell, to tell Adam he did not deserve a sliver of good when everything he'd ever done in his life was bad. The selfish, greedy side begged him to kiss those beautiful lips and tell him that’d only matter with the synth man by his side, and his pitiful consciousness, where he knew deep inside he needed to let himself fucking heal, just stood quiet as a mouse. Aghast to finally have his person of interest telling him the harsh, ugly truth.

His answer was a mix of all those broken pieces, first granting Adam a humourless laugh, followed by a dry sob. His eyes suddenly stung from tears he had not wept for years and years, but he bit them back with another painful laugh.

“You never cease to amaze me, Adam,” he said, and he meant it because Adam never, ever, ceased to leave him breathless and to keep ruffling his feathers, to always break his mind and piece it back together. Adam’s confusion was not enough for Nigel to reach for his perfect, angelic face, to graze his fingers at that squarely soft jaw, and to give Adam a view into his tattered heart, letting Adam know without words that he only came to realise he could heal because of him. Adam was his chance of redemption. 

He must have seen it too, to have seen the broken man upfront and how heavy his sins were. Because he smiled at Nigel’s tearful gaze and let his slight, dainty fingers enclose Nigel's rough ones at his jaw. 

A stray tear escaped from his right eye, startling Nigel more than Adam. He did not remember the last time he shed one after Gabi. 

“You’re crying,” Adam’s remark was more of a confirmation to Nigel’s puzzled staring. 

“I didn’t know I was still capable of doing so.” His attempt at humour was, more or less, to keep himself grounded. 

“Nigel…” Adam let his free hand do the same to Nigel’s bearded jawline, slowly brushing the rough hairs at his fingertips. Nigel’s breath hitched. “Please… If I’m to be happy, to live, and to thrive, I also want you to do the same. This small time we spent together has changed everything I’ve ever known about the world, and I don’t want you to not be deserving of it too.”

He was not allowing himself to heal; he was being directly asked by Adam, dear, kind Adam, to stop being stubborn and start living for a change instead of surviving like a wandering dog in the streets of Boston. And Nigel could never deny Adam his wishes, as he came to realise. If Adam wanted Nigel to live and feel deserving of happiness, he’d do it just for him. 

“For you, gorgeous... Even the sky isn’t the limit.” Nigel felt another stray tear escape his eye, but he gave Adam the brightest smile he could muster. “So yes, deal. I’ll try to be happy for you.”

Adam’s smile was worth the damn try.

“Now…” The synth retreated with his gentle hands but kept his mirthful eyes on Nigel. “Can we get—how did you say it? Oh, yeah. ‘The groove on’?”

Getting a jukebox to play what Nigel knew were bangers only required a little fiddling with the buttons and a bit of trial and error on the tunes. He watched the blinking lights turn a faint shade of green while (impatiently) waiting for the track to load.

“Let’s see what the playlist is rocking today.” The wastelander drummed his fingers on the glass box and said, “C’mon, don’t be so stubborn. Play us a song.”

By the small amused grin given by Adam, he hoped his humour didn’t sour up for as long as he could make it light and easy. Adam proved to help him wonders on that. 

“I hear a faint buzz sound from the speakers,” Adam pointed out, watching the jukebox blink its faded fluorescent lights. The buzzing turned to static, crackling and popping until a fast-beat rhythmic sound echoed from out of the speakers. Piano and trombone sounds instantly filled the once quiet surroundings, reverberating throughout the enclosed space. Nigel grinned victoriously at the jukebox.

“Aha, there we go! This one is a goodie.” The wastelander kept drumming his fingertips at the beat of the song. “The Andrew Sisters are not my favourite gals, but some of their songs are well loved by everyone. They don’t fail to deliver the catchiest music.”

The voices coming from the speakers, high-pitched and singing in a trio, started singing upbeat lyrics, and Adam ducked closer to the jukebox’s speakers, his smile growing larger by the second. 

Each morning, a missionary advertises neon signs!

He tells the native population that civilization is fine!

Another voice soon followed in, accompanying the girls while singing about civilization and not wanting to go there. The song was quite catchy indeed; Nigel kept drumming his fingers to the fast-paced beat.

“Oh, wow…!” Adam’s smile was full of wonder, and his voice was enthusiastic when he spoke. “This is so very different from what Doctor Raki used to listen to! It’s quite-” he said, waving his hands around, trying to copy Nigel’s rhythmic tapping. “It’s so... fun. Oh, the lyrics are quite ironic, isn’t it?”

They got things like the Atom bombs, so I think I’ll stay where I am!

Civilization, I’ll stay right here!

The song’s end was cut because another tune was in queue and ready to play. The beating of drums started, and Adam was quite surprised when Nigel let out a happy exclamation, standing up taller and starting to swing his body at the beat of the song.

“Hell fucking yeah, this is one of my favourites! ”

Oh well! I’m the type of guy who will never settle down

Where pretty girls are, well, you know where I’m around

Nigel couldn’t help but attempt to sing along with Dion Dimucci, swaying left and right and enjoying one of his favourite songs. Adam’s surprised laughter was the perfect drive for him to extend a hand to the other man, coaxing Adam to follow his movements and try to mimic his swaying body. Nigel’s dancing was almost tailored to get Adam moving along with him, letting both hands take Adam’s own to keep them moving.

“They call me the wanderer; yeah, I’m a wanderer.” The wastelander sang along, swinging Adam closer to him, “I roam around, around, ‘n round! C'mon, Adam, sway those hips! Feel the music, just like that.”

Adam’s laughter grew even bolder as the younger man let himself be guided by Nigel’s hands. He tried to mimic Nigel's foot movement, grinding the soles down and rotating his legs like the scavenger had been doing. The feeling was euphoric—to keep moving to the beat of the song and feeling so much joy from just moving in a certain way.

I’m never in one place; I roam from town to town! 

Yeah, I’m a wanderer. Yeah, a wanderer

I roam around and round and round, and yeah!

Their movements—they were dancing , dancing together at that—were full of energy and playfulness; their feet kept roaming around the floor while their bodies moved, and Nigel kept singing the lyrics, twisting and turning Adam’s body in fluid motion, with experienced hands and feet guiding him around the small makedo dance floor.

“That’s it; keep going!” Nigel’s eagerness was contagious, as he conducted and coaxed Adam’s body to keep moving. “You’re getting your groove on!”

For Adam, ‘groove’ was starting to take on meaning. It was the most fun both men ever had to date.

The song’s end came when their dancing merged into laughter and smiles, both synth and wastelander panting for air when the beat finally subdued. Nigel felt his heart swell ten times its normal size when he took in the sight of a beaming, sweaty Adam, whose smile was so big his cheeks might cramp at the end of the day. 

He let himself bask in the synth’s enthusiasm, his own glee having him smile as much.

“That was amazing!” Adam wheezed a laugh between breaths. “The music kept going, and we just kept going, and it was so, so...”

“Groovy?” Nigel offered the word, catching his breath as well. “That’s what I meant when I said it. Nothing beats a good dance with groovy music.”

“So this is what you wanted to teach me,” Adam mused, his gleaming eyes still inquiring as ever. “You wanted me to learn how to dance.”

“Not only that,” Nigel came to admit, “but a good time, too. There’s few things out there that are still as fun as dancing, I suppose.”

He wanted Adam to experience, at least once in his life, how liberating dancing might be. Simply enjoy moving your body and letting go of any problems that may arise. Nigel had forgotten how this felt over time. But it always appeared like he was relearning how to be human again through the synth.

The jukebox buzzing turned to sound again; this time, the beat they heard was slow and gentle. The piano notes gave them a feeling of melancholy, and Nat King Cole’s voice coming from the speakers was deep yet full of passion. The melodic lyrics echoed in the small diner, and Nigel let his body slouch, humming along to the tune.

Love me as though there were no tomorrow

Take me out of this world tonight

Take me; make me forget my sorrow

So when I wake up tomorrow, I’ll know our love was right

For Adam, the beauty of the song playing was fairer than those he used to listen to with Doctor Raki, separating those to a time where he was safe and well by his side. This current song made him feel a strange sort of longing deep within, enthralled by Nigel’s gentle humming and swaying of his body. Nigel let his eyes open to greet Adam’s own and extended a hand to the synth man.

When they began to dance again, their moves weren’t enthusiastic, but instead they swayed with the gentleness of the music, letting themselves get lost within the beauty of the lyrics and the violin’s mellow crescendo, letting both Adam and Nigel feel as if they were somehow floating midair. 

Adam did not need to ask how different this type of dancing was because Nigel taught him all he needed to know with his serene lead, moving and rocking their placid bodies with such ease that he wondered if Nigel was ever this gentle before. He let his head rest on the other’s shoulder, feeling his warm hands on his hip and forearm, and the feeling inside Adam could’ve been compared to the bursting sun, because in this moment, for him and for Nigel, they knew they could not let each other go.

He did not see Nigel’s eyes watering from where he was or how his sorrow and pain melted into a feeling of love. 

Kiss me as though it were now or never

Teach me all that a heart should know

Love me as though there were no tomorrow

Oh, my darling, love me; don’t ever let me go

For Nigel, to have Adam in his arms, like the angel he was amongst rubble and dirt, blessing him and taking his pain away, and giving him another chance to love and to feel loved, meant the shackles of his past were finally let go, and his heart, rejuvenated and full of love, could finally be truly happy again.

He let his hand get lost in those deep brown curls, letting Adam’s breezy smell of something sweet and homely get forever permeated within his soul. And when his eyes, now freely weeping all the tears he held onto for so long, met Adam’s sky blue ones that never ceased to shine, even at the darkest of hours, he could not hold back all his feelings of love, because that’s what he felt for Adam now. 

Nigel loved Adam, like Adam loved the stars. Simply as that, but oh, so very true.

And Adam, seeing how loved he was, came to realise the feeling within him was of love as well.

Love me as though there were no tomorrow

Oh, my darling, love me; don't ever let me go

Both stared at each other for moments that felt like nothing but them existed in this broken world, lost within the love in each other’s gaze. And in that very special moment, Adam understood why human couples showed their affection with kisses on the lips. Why something so outlandish he’d see in magazines and novels now felt like it was all he’d ever need. Without a single hesitation, Adam leaned forward and acted on the sudden urge. Without overanalyzing, without second opinions. 

And if Nigel’s world was already crumbling down, nothing ever compared to the feeling of Adam’s soft lips on his own. 

Noticing Nigel’s body go rigid, Adam pulled away, sputtering apologies as he realised what he’d done. 

“I’m– I’m sorry, I-” Adam’s apologies got lost on the way out when he was pulled back again to Nigel’s lips, letting his own body now go limp and be dipped into the kiss. They stayed with their lips connected for what felt like it was enough for the universe to expand and burst more stars into existence, where Adam let his own shaking hands grasp Nigel’s wheat-coloured locks and pulled him closer and closer until both ran out of air.

Parting felt like a sin because when they did, Adam, Nigel, or both went back for another kiss. But when they truly met each other’s eyes again, all they could do was smile, breathe at each other’s lips, and stay lost in each other’s arms.

Oh, my darling, love me; don't ever let me go