Archive of Our Own ^beta

It isn't hard, picturing Sole with Nick and Hancock. At this point, it's just customary; something we all take for granted. It's just how the game is played. Look at them. Look at those smiles. That warm-hearted affection and mutual respect. They're friends. Great friends. The absolute best. Together, they overcome every obstacle, conquer every fear. Hell, they're more than friends, they're family. Grandpa Nick, Uncle Hancock, and silly Sole-- the baby of the bunch.

The years roll by. They've been through a lot together, the three of them. Always side by side, solving cases and helping unfortunates out of a jam. Sometimes they spill blood, but only when the person's earned it. Times are still tough, but together they push through, holding their heads high. Hancock gets a bit more grainy, Nick shows some more wear and tear, but Sole only seems to grow stronger, holding the group together like glue.

Nick smiles as he legs behind, running a diagnostic. He can't think of anyone he's more proud of. He and his partner? They'll make something out of the Commonwealth yet.

***

Shots fire. Another deed is done. The Institute has been gone a long time, and peace, though fragile, flourishes. Certain factions still have their code, their views, their disagreements, but all's as well as it can be post-apocalyptia. They've made the Commonwealth a better place. Every so often someone threatens that peace, but our heroes are always there, ready to fight.

Hancock smiles, placing a gentle hand on Sole's shoulder. The sun is setting on another day. Time to go home.

***

Nick begins to lose his strength; his wires and bolts waning, ravaged by time. He needs an upgrade, and he gets one. Nothing major, just enough to keep him spry and healthy. Sole is only too happy to help, now an expert on the old 'bot's anatomy. What are friends for, after all?

Nick smiles in thanks, eyes heavy as he watches Sole's weathered cheeks extend a yawn. It's getting late, and Sole is getting tired.

***

Goodneighbor is more than a hovel; more than a den of depravity. The worst has happened-- it's actually respectable now. Hancock smirks at the thought. Still mayor. Still his city. Still of the people, for the people. He looks out the window, the streets wild with business and glee. Never thought he'd see the day. Never thought people would change. Never thought sobriety could feel so good.

Sole smiles and nudges his shoulder, asking for a cigarette, and Hancock obliges. Sole wasn't a smoker, but if ever there was a time to develop a vice, it was now. Hancock strikes a match, lighting the end, the flames reflecting off of Sole's silver hair.

***

It's been a while. Sole wipes the dirt from Dogmeat's grave. Almost everyone left, but he stayed. He stayed until his final breath. Such a good and loyal friend.

Sole sighs, running a bony hand along the stone. Piper was gone-- followed a story with too many hazards. It didn't seem possible, until it happened. Nat took up the mantle for a while, but in the end cracked under the pressure. In the very least, she didn't become what Piper feared.

MacCready lived far, with Duncan and his new wife, Elisa. How long had it been since he darkened Sole's doorway? Ten years? Twenty? Where did the time go? He fell out of contact ages ago, and it was difficult to tell how he was; what with his wife's illness, but at least he was alive. As far as Sole knew, the old sharpshooter was still scraping by.

Deacon disappeared without a trace, not long after the Institute was destroyed. For a while, it was easy to see him in a crowd, pretending to blend. But it wasn't him. It was never him. More than once did Sole grab a stranger's shoulder, greeting them with a smile, only to realize the man they hoped for wasn't behind the sunglasses.

Preston left, too. Became a general, last Sole heard, bringing the Minutemen to the Capital Wasteland and beyond. His name had become both respected and feared, which Sole struggled to accept. It was said that a super mutant followed the Minutemen, helping pave their way through the streets, but those rumours were short lived when no evidence of the creature surfaced. It became a running joke that the big, green giant left in search of milk. Though no one knows where that ridiculous rumour came from, or if he ever found what he was looking for.

Cait turned to social work, much like Sole. With her help, many kicked their addictions and started life anew. She was a shining example to others, using her own failing health as testimony that years of drug use creeps up when you least expect it. She died peacefully at Sole's side, nestled safely in warm, loving arms. Curie was devastated, having acted as Cait's friend and physician. Reluctantly, but needing a change of pace, she left the Commonwealth in search for more scientific achievements. She never returned, but Sole heard stories of a French woman travelling Vegas, aiding the ailing and broken.

Danse stayed the longest, helping Sole and the others clean up the Commonwealth. But as the BOS slowly disbanded, Maxson grew more and more desperate. People began to realize that with the Institute gone, the Brotherhood was more of a hindrance than a help. Determined to prove them wrong, Maxson attempted to rain fear on the people, reminding them that synths still plagued the streets. Danse fought against him, afraid that he'd incur full-scale war. For old times sake, he tried to reason with his former Elder, outlining the benefits of peace. Unable to abandon his past and pride, Maxson attacked. Both men died in combat, each claiming the other's life in a needless victory.

A tear dampened the dirt as Sole pictured their smiling faces. How did everything change so much?

***

The house was warm and empty. Quiet and still. A new family was never really an option for Sole, not after everything they'd suffered. There was a time when it was considered, but fear always inspired complacency. Better to be alone than risk losing a loved one.

That

is what Sole decided. Shaun the son was gone, and Shaun the synth didn't live past a year. The prototype boy, having never been fully perfected, simply shut down, his body unable to cope with the toxic air and filth of the Commonwealth. It was a painful blow, but one that Sole learned to repress. That last bit of happiness snuffed out, after so much loss beforehand. Best never to think of it.

A broken-down Codsworth sat in the closet, rusted and covered in dust. Sole tried to keep him clean, but over the years the task became too difficult. Over time, the parts needed to keep him functional simply ceased to be, and without the proper fusion cells, Sole had to accept that yet another family member was gone.

Oh, but how Sole longed to hear his pompous voice again. Just one more terrible, fatherly joke. Just one more line of guidance. But it wasn't meant to be. Sole's heart ached as the door's lock clicked into place. It would never be opened again.

***

Hancock returned to Sanctuary, waving at the old sales rep. It had been a while, but the three of them always tried to meet once a year, at least. Him, Sole, and--

"Nick?" Hancock rasped, seeing the old synth on the floor. His black eyes sank, seeing Sole lying unconscious in his arms.

Nick shook as he lifted Sole off of the floor and ran to the bedroom. With a sob, he tucked Sole into bed and ran to the kitchen for water. All Hancock could do was stare in horror as the baffled detective worked. Noticing, Nick pulled Hancock out of his stupor, yelling for him to find a doctor, and he did so without delay.

There was nothing to be done. Sole was old and fragile, and even the best of us can't compete with time. Hancock growled, kicking the wall in a blind fury, but Nick remained calm, holding Sole's hand carefully so as not to bruise the skin.

"Don't ... don't break my house," Sole teased with a strained voice.

"Sorry," Hancock whispered, running to the bed. "How ya feelin'? You'll be on your feet in no time, right? We still got stuff to do."

Sole smiled remorsefully. "Not this time, my friend."

Hancock's chest tightened. "But you're ... you're so young. It's like ya just stepped outta that vault yesterday." Sole hummed, eyes closing slowly. "No!" Hancock screamed, clutching the sheets. "I'm not ready for this!"

"I am," Sole soothed, now with a whisper. "It'll be okay. Don't worry."

"Please..." Hancock whimpered, eyes damp. "Don't go."

Sole looked to Nick, barely gripping his hand. "You two take care of each other, okay?"

Nick's lip quivered. "Sure, kid. But you know? I can't promise there won't be some scuffs and dings."

Sole laughed weakly. "Thank you. For everything. We ... had one hell of a ride, didn't we?"

"Don't do that. Don't go sayin' your goodbyes," Hancock begged, gritting his teeth. "You're gonna be fine. You'll see. You'll be outta that bed in no time."

Sole hummed again, eyes turning grey. "Thank you. I--”

Hancock's face paled. He pushed in, shaking the still body carefully. That couldn't be it. There was so much more he wanted to do, to say. He screamed Sole's name, tears streaming down his cheeks, while Nick sat in agonizing silence.

Sole was gone.

***

The years continued on. Goodneighbor and Diamond City merged into one, and Hancock became one of the most powerful and influential men in the Commonwealth. Perhaps even the world; or what was left of it. He looked out at his city, smiling and nodding as the people waved. For all of his mistakes, all of his regrets, Goodneighbor was always there to pick him up again.

Nick walked into the old ghoul's office, the damage to his face and hands expanded, but endurable.

"Nick, ya old dog! How've ya been?" Hancock quipped, offering a cigarette.

"Not bad," he assured. "Not bad. You got a case for me?"

"Naturally. Been havin' an issue with drugs. I think those new brothers down the block are dealin' to kids, but I can't prove it. Care for a challenge?"

Nick smirked, lighting the cigarette between his lips. "Always," he buzzed, taking a long puff.

Hancock grinned, raising his glass of whiskey in thanks. Ghouls don't drink, but he'd come to acquire the taste. Something about it relaxed him, and he never took it too far. It seemed a small exchange in the place of chems.

As he faced the town, the cool breeze chilling his skin, his eyes sank into sadness. "Ya know, we haven't toasted Sole in a while."

Nick blinked at the name. "Who?"

Hancock gripped his glass, remembering that Nick had long forgotten their old friend. Not on purpose, of course. He fought hard to keep those memories alive, but in the end the data was lost. At times, something would surface. He'd laugh suddenly, recalling an old joke, but not who told it. Other times he'd feel an overwhelming sense of sadness, like he'd lost something precious, but he couldn't figure out why. For his sake, Hancock felt it best to let the memories fade.

"Oh, nothing. Never mind."

Nick shrugged obligingly. "If you're sure." He finished his cigarette and tossed the butt into the ashtray. "Don't worry. I'll have this case solved before you know it."

"I know, buddy. I know."

Hancock watched the stars as the door closed behind him. With Nick gone, he let out a gentle weep, a tear rolling down his cheek. He leaned against the balcony, hanging his arms over the rail. He was the only one left. The only one who remembered. Weakly, he lifted his glass towards the sky, tipping it slightly, then slowly downed the rest of the drink.

***

How long do ghouls live? It was a question Hancock could never answer. He'd lost count of his age. Two-hundred? Three-hundred? Four-hundred? All he knew was that year by year, someone he cared for passed away. He was fortunate; although he didn't feel that way, to have dodged so many bullets. Most other ghouls were lost to the wasteland. His back and shoulders bent and he seemed rougher-- more lines covering his face-- but for the most part he felt frozen in time. Everyone was gone. Sole, Fahrenheit, Nick.

Yes, it seems even synths don't outlive ghouls. Nick was losing pieces, his metal body unable to adapt to time's harsh influence. One final case. That's all it took. That's all he needed. The old detective left with dignity, sacrificing his life for another. He knew it would end that way, but he wasn't the least bit discouraged. He smiled that bright, confident smile and did what had to be done. By the end, there was nothing left but scrap. But a little girl got to live one more day. To him, that was worth it.

Hancock groaned. His head throbbed, his body trembling as he tried but failed to ignore his losses. He knew it was inevitable. He'd led a good life, one he could be proud of, but the mind was never meant to be eternal. Every night he saw their faces, and every night a bit more of his sanity chipped away.

This is how ghouls go feral.

***

No more. Hancock couldn't take anymore. The time had come to stand down and leave Goodneighbor in the hands of someone he trusted. A descendant of Fahrenheit-- from the family that served him for generations. He could never start a family of his own, but he had Goodneighbor, and all of her residents were his children. He gave his final speech, set his affairs in order, then marched to his office with his head held high.

He removed his coat, hanging it on the back of his chair. Next came the hat; his trusty tricorn hat. How the raggedy things managed to survive as long as he did was a mystery indeed. He chuckled, feeling a huge weight lift from his body. He never realized just how heavy those clothes were until he took them off.

He heard the people below, applauding their new mayor but lamenting the loss of their old one. That was the best final gift he could have been given.

It was time. He sat back on the chair and reached into his desk. One pill. That's all it would take. He eagerly popped the lid, pouring several into his jagged hand. His mind burned with objections, but he wasn't willing to lose control. Not to himself. He wouldn't become feral, and he wouldn't lose anymore friends. As Sole once said, he’d had one hell of a ride. The absolute best. Now it was time to end it.

He tiled his head, sliding the pills into his mouth and swallowing quickly. Without a doubt, this was what he wanted. He was ready.

As promised, the poison worked fast. Hancock coughed, his vision failing. Despite the pain, he never felt more at peace. In that moment, he saw Sole smiling at him with an outstretched hand. He smiled back, reaching out in abandonment, then closed his fingers around the smooth, inviting skin.

"Never thought I'd see ya again..." he grinned, feeling a familiar warmth. He let out a gentle breath, his eyes inching closed.

They never opened again.