Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Woah! You sure?" Hancock took the handgun from Zenith, holding it by the silencer before taking it in both hands and moving it up and down, as if weighing it, before looking back up into Zenith's eyes. He just smiled and nodded.

"Of course!" He patted Hancock's back, looking down at the gun. "What better gun to learn one-handed with than one of my best?" He asked before raising his hand and flicking the tip of Hancock's hat.

"Oh- well, thanks, Zen." The ghoul smiled, nodding as he put the gun in his coat pocket. "Of course, Hancock." Zenith replied before pulling him into a tight hug, letting go almost as fast as he had initiated, leaving Hancock a little shocked. "And thanks."

A beat passed as Hancock looked at Zenith strangely, furrowing his nonexistent brows.

"For coming to the party!" Zenith added on, shrugging and chuckling. Hancock nodded, but something in his eyes told Zenith he had to be more careful if he wanted tonight going off without a hitch.

"Yeah. No problem." The mayor muttered before clearing his throat and rocking on his heels, before snapping his fingers. "I'm... gonna... go see about some Sugar Bombs." He mumbled before walking off.

Alright, Zenith thought, walking outside his old house, to the roundabout where they had set up a few booths, so the travelling merchants would have somewhere to enjoy themselves while selling their wares.

Just a few more, Nick, then Shaun and then it's fine. Has to be. He stopped for a moment, looking at the lights he had built and the makeshift wires hitching them all to a sad generator, which rumbled as though it would blow.

He ran his thumb over his wedding ring, trying to find some small solace before he walked to say goodbye to Danse and Piper.

"No, see, it's not making trouble or spreading some stupid agenda, it's sending out information, so people can make up their minds!" Piper exclaimed, seemingly in disbelief at how Danse could even think something like that.

In response, he shrugged and looked down into his cup of purified water. "I'm just saying, if you compare papers from before the war, if you look at those posters, are those an agenda?"

Piper rolled her eyes, giving a small ugh before she glared at Danse, fixing her cap. "Yeah, those are. But my paper isn't, my paper is giving people the facts they wouldn't know otherwise!" Danse nodded. "Ahhh... so you don't care about the other papers, you're just upset about what I implied of yours?" He asked, looking down at Piper, who pinched the bridge of her nose.

Zenith, smart enough to know when a mine was about to blow, walked up and put an arm over Piper's shoulder. "Hey, guys!" He chirped, a smile plastered on his face as he looked between the two. Luckily, they both relaxed and looked at him.

"Hey, Blue." Piper smiled back. "Knight." Danse nodded, straightening his back. Zenith let go of Piper and stood in front of the two. "So, in honor of it being a year since I joined the brotherhood," He winked at Danse and snapped his fingers into finger guns. "And a month since the McDonough incident," He looked at Piper and put his hands underneath his trenchcoat and pulled out two guns. One a souvenir from the institute and the other a gift from Tinker Tom.

The pair's eyes widened a little, with Danse being the first to reach out and take the energy weapon. "I got that from the institute. Now you have a weapon that matches!" Zenith joked, snickering as he pressed the railway gun into Piper's hands.

"This, I got from the railroad. It shoots railroad spikes, so just head down there if you ever need ammunition." Piper hesitantly took it before looking at Zenith, and something in her, maybe the reporter instinct, was sending off alarms. "Uh... thanks, Blue, but are you alright? Thought you loved these guns."

Danse looked over Experiment 16-A, puzzled. "I look nothing like this..." He muttered, which earned an elbow from Piper. He looked up at Zenith and huffed. "I appreciate the sentiment, Knight, but I have to agree. Wasn't this party meant to celebrate you?" Zen clicked his tongue, shaking his head as his eyes darted between the two.

"No, no, not exactly. Moreso, to celebrate our time together. And memories. I would've waited till Christmas, but I didn't know if I'd still have everyone." He joked, giving a chuckle, though the looks didn't go away. Piper put the gun in her holster and tilted her head. "Christmas?" Zen winced and sighed.

"Ah, right. I told you about it once, the tree holiday?" Piper mumbled a soft "ohhhh" before Danse shrugged. "A reasonable concern. Thank you, Knight." Piper nodded. "Yeah. You got a big heart, Blue, thanks."

Zenith's smile relaxed, something more heartfelt in it, yet so painful. "Of course, you guys." Was all he said before pulling Piper into a hug and motioning for Danse to join, who instead opted for a fist bump. He let go and waved before walking off, leaving Piper with that same expression Hancock wore.

No big deal, Zenith tried to tell himself, to spite the dread he felt as he walked to the yellow house where Curie and Codsworth were talking about... something.

"Yes, yes, but the cleaner was superior! I doubt any science could make Abraxo any better than it was before the war." Codsworth proclaimed, his bottom half spinning as Curie giggled, crossing her legs as she let herself lean against the wall. "Monsieur Codsworth, I have to disagree! The things I saw those scientists come up with in that vault, there's simply no way we couldn't come up with something even better with a bit of imagination!"

"Well, if it isn't my favorite former robot and my favorite current robot!" Zenith called as he jogged up to the pair, knocking on Codsworth's dome and offering his hand to shake to Curie. "Mister Zenith! A pleasure as always." Codsworth exclaimed, though he whirred when tapped.

Curie squealed. "Oh, Monsieur Zeni!" She shot down the handshake, instead throwing her arms around him. That was one thing Zenith adored. Everyone else was lovely, sure, but hardened by the wastes. Curie was as well, but still ready to give chances and affection at the drop of a hat. Speaking of which...

"I'm happy to see you too, Curie." He said, squeezing her back before he let go and smiled. "I have something for you two, though! C'mon, I think I put it in these drawers." Zenith motioned for them to follow as he entered the house, heading down the hall to what used to be a bedroom, now a repurposed sleeping bag room.

The only thing he hadn't scrapped in this room was the nightstand, instead relocated to a corner.

He opened the top drawer, taking out a small bowler hat. "This is for you, Codsworth." He said, walking over and placing it on top of his metal dome. "Thank you, sir! I imagine I look rather dashing, now! But, erm, should we ever go travelling, I doubt this will stay on securely." Codsworth noted, before Zenith smiled. "Ah, that I planned for."

He reached into the pocket of his trench coat, getting out a small, worn tube of wonderglue. "This will keep it from blowing off, but if you ever want it off, just ask someone to wet a rag and wipe it off. This is some of the preserved stuff, so I'll give it to you to carry." He said as he put a few drops on the inside rim, then pressing it on Codsworth's head.

"Oh, sir, you flatter me!" Once Zenith stepped back, Codsworth spun around and though he couldn't smile, Zenith and Curie imagined him doing so.

Zenith turned to Curie and pointed a finger at her. "As for you..." He stiffened his voice and squinted, fixing his mouth into a sneer before he laughed and dropped the act. "Listen, if you remember, a little while after we left, you mentioned wondering what people wore before the war. You know, other than lab coats. Well..." He turned around and walked back to the dresser, kneeling down and opening the bottom drawer, lifting up a small park outfit, like he would've worn for a simple walk. "It'd be something like this!"

Button up and jeans. Short sleeves, white base with orange and blue plaid, and a few buttons. It used to be a button-up, and the jeans used to have a nice looking, deep blue to them, but when Zenith looked up, Curie couldn't seem to care less.

"Oh, monsieur! You are too sweet! This is even better than I could have ever imagined!" She took the clothes delicately, as if she were sure they were just a hologram, then held them close and squealed. "Ahahah! Thank you, monsieur Zenith, you have no idea how much this means to me!"

Zenith smiled softly, his eyes softeningas he looked at how happy his two friends were from the things they had gotten. "Of course. But, uh, can I talk to you, Curie? Just privately." He requested, walking out into the hall, waiting for her to follow. Curie followed, looking slightly concerned. "Of course, monsieur. What's wrong?"

Zenith tensed, quietly contemplating just letting it all slip. Letting everything out and telling her right then and there, just how sick of everything he was. He opened his mouth, eyes dodging left and right before settling on a small patch of grass that had managed to sneak into the broken floor of the house.

Some stupid, selfish part of him hoped that the words that fell out would save him from himself, but it came out just as he had rehearsed. "Nothing, I just wanted to ask a favor of you. If..." He hesitated, forcing his eyes up from the floor to look into Curie's. "If something happens to me out in the wasteland, Shaun will need looking after." He said, feeling as if he were dreaming.

He could feel his mouth moving, he could see Curie's face scrunch up, how it did when she got so determined, but he still wasn't quite there. His body was there, motioning and nodding and smiling, but his mind was so...

"Thank you again, Monsieur!" Curie chimed, walking back into the room with Codsworth. What? Zenith looked around, a little confused. Had he really spaced out of that whole conversation? He took off his wedding ring and stared at it for a moment, tensing up. Nick. Shaun. Fine. He reminded himself, taking a deep breath and stepping out of the house without another word.

The synth detective was almost always hanging out away from the noise at big events like this, Zenith knew that. He began to walk, waving at a few people along the way. Mama Murphie, Strong, some villager who jacked his power armor. It's not like he'd be needing it again, and he knew that Hancock would probably just get it for Shaun if he ever did.

Zenith stopped just past the sign of the settlement. This used to be his home, Sanctuary Hills, but now it was nothing more than an echo. A painful reminder. He looked at it for a moment before turning his attention to the synth gazing up at the stars, the hot red glow of his cigarette matching the soft amber of his eyes. He walked over and leaned on the railing, though not too hard he'd learned that lesson a while ago, and looked up. "Hey." He said, glancing only for a moment before returning his attention to the starlit sky.

"Hey yourself." Nick whispered back, turning from looking up at the sky to looking at the most marvelous thing in the wasteland. "Havin' fun?" He asked, taking the cigarrette out from his mouth with his bare metal hand. Zenith shrugged and looked down at the water beneath them. "Yeah. Nice having everyone together. It's... been forever." He muttered, putting his hand on his hair, running his hands through the tightly coiled curls, stopping when he ran into a tangle. "How about you?"

Nick, a little concerned look at Zen before he shrugged. "Talked to everyone I wanted to. Piper, Codsworth, Curie, Shaun." He listed, taking another puff of his cigarette as Zenith seemed to get a little uncomfortable. "Penny for your thoughts?"

Zenith remained silent, lifting his head back up to the stars, closing his eyes. "I guess I just still can't believe it." He mumbled, taking a deep breath and letting it out in a near silent sigh. "Institute's gone." He jumped slightly when he felt the worn silicone rub against his skin, looking down to realize how tightly he'd been gripping the railing. He relaxed and chuckled. Nick took his hand and squeezed it. "And your son." He noted, his voice sounding so worried. Zenith tensed, biting his lip, waiting for a flood of tears, but... nothing. He couldn't feel them. He let a breathless laugh, though nothing was funny. "Yeah."

The distant sound of chatter and brahmin and clanging cans was the only thing heard as Nick pulled Zenith into a hug. Only one of them knew it, but this was his apology, and his goodbye. Zenith wrapped his arms tightly around him and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. Nick smelled like metal, maybe the taste of copper, and smoke. It was one of the things Zenith found comforting. If nothing else, Nick was the same. Hard for a synth to change appearances. Not impossible, but hard.

"Love ya." Nick muttered, rubbing Zen's back as gently as he could. "You too." He mumbled back, opening his eyes and pulling away. "I'm gonna go find Shaun." He mumbled, stretching, then turning and walking away. "Alright. I'll see you at home?" Nick asked, walking behind him and taking his hand again, squeezing it. Zenith tensed and looked down. "Sure." Was all he said before taking his hand away and making his way to the bunker behind Jahari's old house.

A sinking feeling in the synth's chest, he watched as Zenith walked, dropping his cigarette on the ground and stamping it out before wandering back to the party to find Hancock. Something... something was up.

Chapter Text

Zenith found Shaun where he normally always was in parties. Like his mother in that regard. The center of attention, entertaining whoever he could. Right now, that seemed to be Nat, Deacon, and MacCready. Zen couldn't help but smile as he approached, stopping and leaning against the wall as he admired his boy. God, just like his mother... Even if he was a synth, he felt exactly how Zen imagined his son would've been at this age. He thumbed his ring, spinning it around. He thought of how his son was the reason he'd torn apart the commonwealth, but now?

He felt proud, and yet, as though he had no connection to this stranger, who vied for his pride and attention. Shaun turned as everyone began laughing, snorting to himself before he saw Zenith. "Dad!!!" He called out, sprinting over and throwing himself at his father, full force. Zenith caught him, spinning and kissing his head. "Shaun!" He exclaimed, rustling up the small amount of hair Shaun did have on his head. "Did you see Ms. Wright? Her and Nat said they were happy to have a break! I'm really happy they're getting along." He gushed, hand grasping at his dad's as he watched the party.

Zenith looked at his synth son, conflict in his eyes as he knelt down and hugged him. Shaun stopped for a moment before hugging back as tight as he could. "Love you, dad!" He chirped as Zen slowly let go. "Yeah. I love you too, you know that? And your mom loved you, a whole lot. She'd be proud of you, and I'm proud of you. Always and forever." He said, clasping a hand gently on his son's shoulder, who beamed. "Yeah, dad, I know! Still though, awesome!" He cheered, throwing his hands into the air with the widest smile. "And... even though I did all of this to get you, I want you to know, you don't have to be the next General, or Knight, or anything. You do what makes you happy, got it?" He poked a finger into Shaun's chest, who wiggled and giggled out of his Dad's reach. "Dad, I know! Can I go back to the party now?"

Zenith looked at Shaun for a moment, smile faltering only for a second before he squeezed Shaun's hand. "Of course, kid." He whispered before Shaun threw his arms around his neck one more time before running off. "Bye, I love you!" He called. Zen watched and... felt a weird pit in his stomach. He could've gone into more detail, have mentioned so much more but... this was okay too. He took a step back, taking in the entire sight.

This wasn't Sanctuary Hills anymore, but at least some folks would call it home.

And with that, he turned his attention to the vault, beginning the trek, leaving the noise of celebration behind. He sighed softly and looked at the tower in the distance where the military lowered them into the supposed secure vault over two-hundred and ten years ago. When his family was whole, when he had purpose, and everything felt okay despite everything.

He turned once he was a few yards away, watching the shadows move and dance, the laughter and bickering. He found his voice after a few moments, closing his eyes to shut out the tears as he whispered. "Goodbye." His throat tightened, making it near impossible for him to get out, "I love you."

To Nick.

To Shaun.

To the place he'd once known as home.

Zenith turned his back and continued on his way. A gunshot wouldn't be heard inside the vault, he knew that. He was pretty sure, at least.

Or, in the very least, nobody would be able to reach him in time.

A part of him wanted to turn back and walk in as though everything was fine, but he knew this was how it had to be. The Commonwealth had been saved, what was the point of persevering in the horrible wasteland? What was the point of sticking around when all he was ever meant for was fighting for everyone else?

With all the sentries, the Minutemen, the remnants of the Brotherhood that reformed, there... there was no need for some random man who should've died sixty years ago. If not, two hundred and ten. He could feel the tears coming down his face, but he couldn't summon any will to wipe them. Not as though anybody would notice when they did find him.

He pressed the button and stepped onto the platform, haven taken some time yesterday while "getting party supplies" to cut off the sound. He opened his Pip-boy and took out a holotape, one he'd recorded what felt like forever ago, edited just a little while ago to ensure everything was in order. He shook, but somehow, he didn't feel much stress or anxiety. Just a thirst to have it all end. A weird serenity of sorts.

Some part of Zenith wondered if Nora ever felt the same.

If she died instantly when shot, or if she bled out, just for a moment, long enough to hear the back-up comment, to hear their baby boy sob.

Just for an instant.

Zenith stepped off of the platform and lifted his feet up the stairs, feeling light and as though he were wearing lead boots at the same time. Was it guilt? Maybe. But it was a necessary evil.

Like destroying the institute.

Like... like...

He felt a shivering sob escape his lips as the room blurred, barely able to step off the platform and to the first door before he fell against it, memories of the day his Shaun came into the world, when he became a real dad. When he and Nora went for their first check-up, to a friend he'd made, privately, as he had to pretend Nora was pregnant, that it was her sonogram and she simply wasn't showing. He remembered all the bouts of wishing he had been at peace with his body, gotten surgery beforehand instead of watching himself become more and more effeminate, and the soothing peace he got from his wife.

He remembered the birth. At home, so quiet.

And he remembered the week after, caring together, taking turns, fussing over Shaun as much as he fussed about everything, and then...

Zenith opened the door and walked through, shutting it behind him.

Maybe there was a chance to turn back, but that's the thing about goodbyes. Permanent ones only happen once. And he was hellbent and making this one just like that.

His party was his grand farewell.

A part of him, some selfish horrible part, was mad nobody caught on.

But some part, he wanted to say the logical side, couldn't have cared less. He walked further in, a shaking hand removing the ten millimeter pistol from his inside pocket as he fell in the power generator room. He couldn't die in front of Nora, who had been noble enough to give herself for their son. No.

Not when he was a coward who couldn't so much as convince his own son that there were other ways.

Not when he was a man who couldn't even say goodbye to everyone, for real, not with some simple dingy gifts.

He fell to his knees, then stuck them out and let them lean against the railway.

Zenith took a small bottle, with cheerful writing. Daytripper!

He had plenty of friends who vouched for it pre-war. Loved the stuff, was supposed to make you happy, but the whole "don't operate heavy machinery, may impact physical capabilities" swayed him away. Not today, though.

He opened it and drank about half before he sighed and lifted the gun.

Aim. Fire. Fine.

He held it, staring right down the barrel as he clenched his eyes shut. Such a coward, he couldn't even face his own death, even when it was by his own hand.

He began to clench his hand, bracing, even though he knew it would probably be instant.

He heard the gun fire.

He felt a burning hot pain, and he cried out.

No. No, no, no, no, there was no way this thing had such a strong effect on him that it-

"ZENITH!"

Fuck.

Chapter Text

A more poetic man would've called them his saviors, despite himself, but when he squinted, all he could think of was how he screwed up.

Embarrassment, maybe shame, filled Zenith, his formerly apathetic mind now catching up to his racing heart. He couldn't face them, they'd be so much better for it. He just had to pull it off, he just had to.

This time, he pressed the gun firmly against the side of his temple only to be tackled to the ground in a flurry of red, white, and ghoul. "Stop it!" Hancock exclaimed, planting his knee on his chest as he began wrestling the gun away from him.

"Just let me do this!" Zenith cried, his own broken, cracking voice echoing through the vault, eyes blurring with tears as he reached up with both hands, tugging as hard as possible at the gun to get it back.

"Blue, quit it!" Piper exclaimed, running to the two, helpinh Hancock take the gun before holding it, staring down at the gun. This felt so surreal. She dropped it off to the side, kicking it away with her heel down the stairs, hitting the generator with a clanking noise. Hancock took his knee off of Zen and leaned down, checking the bullet wound, the blood soaking his undershirt, which he moved aside. Wincing, Hancock turned to look at Piper and Nick.

"We gotta get him to Curie." He urged. Zenith tried to stand, but Hancock forced him back down. "Stop it." He muttered softly, trying to get him to just lay. "We're helping you." He mumbled, hands clenched into fists as he looked at his friend.

And then Nick walked over.

My god, Nick. Zenith clenched his eyes shut, shaking like a leaf as he tried to hold back his tears. He had screwed this all up. He should've never even thrown the party, he should've been smart and held it right up against him the first time, he should've-

"Zen." His voice sounded so hurt. Zenith's burning hot face could feel the cool metal hand against his cheek, as he opened his eyes, only looking at Nick for a moment before he looked away, but that expression would be burned into his mind forever.

He looked shocked, eyesbrows raised and his lips slightly parted, and hurt, edges of his mouth curled into a frown and his eyes tensed, like he'd just flinched. Zen couldn't believe he had hurt Nick so much, that if a Gen 1 synth could cry, he looked like he would be sobbing.

And he hadn't even died.

Against Zen's will, a few tears slipped as he gazed at the floor, lips tight as he clenched his jaw. A silence as heavy as a Beheamoth weighed in the room before he realized the drug was wearing off, that the heaviness and pain in his chest wasn't just the tense air of the room, or his mind betraying him, but the actual lead he'd driven into his chest. He tensed and furrowed his brows, clenching his eyes shut as the warm blood drenching the area right between his neck and shoulder, it... began to make him feel a little... tired.

Nick's hand pinched his face, getting him to open his eyes, before he stood alongside Hancock and Piper. "Me and Piper will take him. You go get her." He decided, his normally playful and sarcastic tone, a shuddering whisper. The other two nodded as Zenith gripped the railing, trying to pull himself up. It was stupid, he knew, but he was still eyeing that stupid gun.

Piper tugged on his hand, and due to his lack of balance, ended up supporting all of his weight. Hancock nodded and bolted out of the underground tomb, as Zenith looked around. He hated this. Why were they still here? He tried to walk on his own, but Piper held a tight grip on him, arm wrapped around his side. "Blue, just stay awake. Hang in there." She insisted, looking at Zen like he was glass, as if the moment she loosened or let him slip, he'd shatter. He hated that look.

Nick joined her on the other side, hurriedly walking towards the vault elevator. Hancock was waiting, as he figured it'd be counter productive to head up without them, and they all made it. Zenith felt so heavy, eyelids begging to be shut as the pain began to dull out, along with his other senses. He could hear everyone freaking out, calling his name, he could feel the touch of cold metal and barely smell copper and smoke, but it wasn't enough.

He felt the elevator start and barely lifted his head to look at the skyline before he blacked out.

Zenith woke up, much to his dismay. He groaned softly as he looked around. He was in his house- his bedroom. He knew he was shirtless, with a bandage wrapped around his torso, and that it ached. If he had his way, he would've asked them to get that Butcher Pete so nobody would've had to see.

But now everybody knew, he had to be alive to deal with it. The only person he'd ever really truly come out to was Nick, because he saw himself in the synth.

Not belonging in a body, living a life that's not quite yours, convincing everyone that it's okay you exist, or doing deeds until you know it's okay you exist... It's why Nick took up detective work and he joined the military.

They were the only ones that could understand the other.

But now Curie knew, and probably Hancock, Piper, everybody. Everybody he had been masquerading in front of knew, and they would probably never understand. He felt tears prick his eyes as his throat tightened.

Trying to get control of his emotions, he heard footsteps, and could smell something... mirelurk cooking? He looked to the door and watched as Piper walked through. She looked shocked to see him awake, but still rushing over. "Oh, Blue, what the hell!" She whisper-yelled, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him as tightly as she could.

Zenith tensed, still a little confused on how he was meant to respond before he wrappde his arms around Piper. He felt sore, and his arms shook, but he was intent on comforting her. "Why would you do that? I know the wasteland is tough, but, but you have friends!

You have me, you got Nick, you got- you got-" She buried her head into Zen's shoulder as he struggled to find words. He just... wanted things to be easier on them. "I... uh..." He slowly lowered his arms, wincing from the strain he had put on them as Piper pulled away. He couldn't bring himself to look into her eyes, knowing they were bloodshot. "Sorry." He settled on, which got a sad chuckle from Piper.

"You almost take away the savior of the Commonwealth and my best friend, Shaun's dad, Nick's boyfriend, and all I get is sorry?" She asked, counting on her fingers as Zen shrank back, wishing he could just disappear.

At least she didn't seem to know.

Or, at least, was respectful.

"I... I just wanted things to be easier for you guys. It's not easy out here, and I never really felt like I belonged. After losing everyone, the only thing I had was the Minutemen." He looked out a gap in the walls of his home.

"And they're still around." Piper pointed out, thorns in her words. "And they're finished. There's no more settlements, Piper, there's no more people who need help! The railroad has access to everything, Preston won't admit it but he's got this covered, and I..." He tensed, blinking back tears as he took a sharp inhale, staring at the ceiling.

"Nobody needs some useless, forever mourning, pissed off vet from before the war. I've served my purpose." With every descriptor, his voice got unintentionally more upset, angry, but not at Piper. She was asking an innocent question. It was all at him, for being stupid enough to fail something like dying when it had almost happened so many times.

Piper stared at Zenith, furrowing her brows and searching his eyes. "You seriously believe that...?" She asked, though Zen didn't respond, his eyes distant, producing more tears than he could blink away.

Curie popped into the room, muttering something about Piper disturbing the patient again. She looked up and saw Zenith awake, with tears in his eyes, and Piper seemingly agitating him further.

"Madame Piper?" She chimed softly, looking to the door once she had her attention. Piper stood and looked at Zenith, trying to find something, anything to say that would bring some semblance of ease.

But simply walked out.

Curie walked over to Zenith and began to take his vitals, getting out a bottle of Buffout for the pain. Wordlessly, she got out a can of purified water and set it on the bed, along with two pills. Zen looked at Curie, who looked to be scared, as hard as she tried to be stoic.

"Monsieur Zenith." She said, sitting in her chair and grabbing a clipboard off of the nightstand. "Have you had any pains outside of your torso? Stiffness in your neck, headaches, any reactions?" She asked, which he figured was part of the routine.

"No." He mumbled, turning from the wall to face Curie so she could tell for herself. "How long have I been out?" He asked while picking up the water and the Buffout, attempting to open them.

"About a day and a half." She replied, scribbling away. He gave it his best shot, but his arms felt weak, shakey, fingers clumsily gripping and slipping on the can. He looked to Curie and held it out. "Could you...?"

Curie looked up from her clipboard and to the can as tears began to fill her eyes. She put down the clipboard, took the can, and opened it, quickly handing it back before she sniffed. "Monsieur... why?" She asked, voice barely above a whisper. Zenith hated that he had hurt Curie in such a way. He looked down and away before shrugging. "Just... sounded like a good idea." He mumbled, before he held his arms up slightly, open. Curie took the hug, holding onto Zenith as gently as possible due to his delicate state, and then let go. She picked up her clipboard as he took the Buffout and downed it with water.

It all made sense, in hindsight. It wasn't uncommon, especially for men suffering from depression, to throw something like a party to say goodbye indirectly. To give things away, to tie up loose ends. A part of Curie was angry that she hadn't noticed sooner, but another side knew that it was hard to differentiate that kind of behavior from his normal one.

Curie looked at Zenith for a moment longer, noting how his curls were still frizzy from last night, how his beard looked like he had tried to shave a few days prior, but not all of it was gone. She knew she was staring, yet, she couldn't quite care. She had almost lost him, and it scared her that she couldn't clearly picture him, due to how she took his presence forgranted. "If you like," She began, which got Zenith to look at her, eyes sunken and tired. Had he always looked like that? "I can bring in a few others who would like to see you?"

Zenith hesitated, knowing everyone was probably still mad. He thought of how Hancock had behaved. Curie nodded. "No rush." She noted before she walked to the door, taking the bottle of Buffout with her, just in case. "I'll be back in a bit to check on you again, take vitals, and such." She chimed, trying to cheer up Zen a little before she left.

Zenith appreciated it, he always did, but he didn't really understand. He leaned back and looked at the cieling. He knew he should've been dead, but they caught on and they stopped him. He didn't know why, but they had. Maybe they had more dirty work they could distract him with. He sighed and put a hand on his chest. It hurt, yes, but not as bad. Like poking a bruise. He ran a hand down across the bandages, feeling their texture on his chest as he looked around.

His nightstand, the lamp on top.

His closet, the rubble had been cleared out. Sturges.

The gap in the wall. Nat and Shaun were peeking through. Most of the fallen wall had been patched. Sturges.

The blankets-

wait.

He looked again and sat up a little straighter, bewildered. "Shaun? Nat?" He asked, which got the two to duck down and giggle. A little smile tugged at his lips as he turned to face the wall, legs hanging off of the bed. "What're you two doing over there?"

Shaun jumped up and held onto the wall, pulling his top half through, swinging his legs on the otherside. "Danse wouldn't stop talking about how this was classified and that was secret, so we came to see ourselves!" He giggled. "Nat said it was an undercover mission, like Piper pulls, but she says I messed it up."

Zenith chuckled and tilted his head. "Did she now?" A question to which Shaun eagerly nodded. "Can we come in, dad?" Nat stood up and rolled her eyes. "You're raising a real dense sheep, mister. I didn't even have to offer him any caps!" She exclaimed, to which Shaun got down and looked at Nat. "Don't call me a sheep! I'm plenty wolf!"

Nat looked at Shaun before deadpanning at Zenith who sighed. "Yeah, if I'm not bein' guarded, come on in." He nodded, laying back out on his bed. They disappeared for a few moments before being in his doorway. Shaun didn't hesitate, running in and hugging Zenith as tight as he could, whereas Nat just sat on the bed.

"Wo-hoah!" Zenith exclaimed, though didn't hesitate to wrap an arm around him. He patted Shaun's back once he let go and looked to Nat. "You guys miss me or something?" He joked, before Nat scoffed. "No, we were glad you were gone." She mumbled, side-eyeing Zen. It drove a little deep, a part of him relieved Nat seemed to be unaware of why he was bedridden.

"Well, that's just too bad, isn't it?" A voice came from the hallway, that synth detective with a hat and a weathered face turning the corner and leaning on the doorframe.

Shaun beamed, turning from his dad, letting go with one arm so he could wave. "Nick!!!" He all but squealed as Nat nodded. Zen looked at Shaun, gently brushing through his hair with his fingers, separating the curls that had interlocked so tightly. "Hey, Shaun." Valentine spoke softly, walking over and patting his head.

He sat on the bed and looked between the children. "Say, shouldn't you two troublemakers be buggin' Danse?" He asked, which got Shaun to shrug. "Not our fault he wasn't watching us close enough." Nat retorted, picking at her nails. Nick chuckled. Zenith let out a breathy laugh. "You know he's gonna lose it if you aren't back there soon." He warned Shaun, tapping behind his ear.

Shaun groaned. "But I missed you!" He cried, turning and burying his head into his dad's chest, hugging him again. Still sore, Zenith tensed and patted Shaun's back, who loosened up in response. "I know, buddy, but guess what? You'll see me at dinner! Go check on those mirelurk..." He looked to Nat for help, still too scared of Nick, but he was the one who answered.

"Cakes."

"Cakes!"

Shaun gasped, starry-eyed as he looked to Nat, who gave a rare smile. "If you insist!" Was all she said before she ran out of the room, Shaun kissing Zenith's cheek before he scrambled off of the bed and out of the room.

A pregnant silence followed, likely carrying multiples from how heavy it was.

Zenith looked at Nick, who looked off to the side. He went to look off to the side, but found Nick's eyes moving to look into his. He looked down at Nick's hand, feeling his electric eyes burn into his skull.

"Zen."

Like a child who was about to be scolded, Zen lifted his head slowly, a guilty, hesitant smile on his face. "I... uh..." He cleared his throat. "Guess you could say I threw away my shot?"

Nick looked at him, appauled. His mouth was downturned, like in disgust, lips parted and eyebrows high, and Zenith wished he could throw himself into the river.

"That's not funny." The synth muttered, placing a hand on Zen's.

I know! A part of him wanted to blurt. I know, I'm so sorry.

"Yeah." He agreed, though a beat had passed.

Nick sighed, getting off the bed and clenching his fist. "Yeah? You almost kill yourself, you almost take your own life!" He exclaimed, turning around sharply, throwing his hands up. "And all you can muster is a joke and a half-assed yeah?!"

Zenith flinched. He wanted to say he didn't understand why he was so upset, why he was yelling as quietly as he could, but he knew.

He hurt Nick. God, he was so selfish.

As thoughts began to pour in, he tried to continue listening to Nick, who was now pacing from end to end of the room. "I knew somethin' was up, Hancock and Piper told me about you giving away your guns, your favorite guns, and- and I almost didn't believe it. I almost lost you to a gun just like I did..." He stopped, hugging himself with one arm, resting his other arm's elbow on it and covering his mouth.

Zenith layed back against the pillows, looking at the back of Nick's head. He knew he was waiting for an answer, wanting for him to say something, anything, but he could only come up with a pathetic, "Sorry."

Nick turned for a moment before letting his arms fall to his side. "Why didn't you talk to me?" He asked, voice desperate. "You talked to me about everythin', Zen." He searched his face for anything that could tell him what changed in the month they had stopped travelling together.

But Zenith's lips beat him to it.

"I didn't want anyone to know." He admitted.

Nick walked back slowly and sat down again, taking a breath.

"I didn't want anyone to know because I'm all these different things, Nick." He admitted, pulling his legs into a cross-legged position, too sore to pull them to his chest.

"Railroad agent, savior of synths, General of the Minutemen, slayer of raiders, everything and anything people want me to be, I've become, so imagine how it looks when I..." He hesitated, feeling his face get wet against his will, his lip and voice shaking despite his best efforts. He laughed at himself. How stupid is this?

"Once things started to slow down..." He tried to speak, his ghostly soft voice betraying him. "Once everyone started to get their own things to do, I..." He wiped his eyes and sniffed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I guess I got sick of it?" He mumbled, though his broken voice made it sound like a question, barely making it out of his mouth.

Nick placed a hand on his shoulder, knitting his brows together and gently prodding further. "Sick of you?" He asked.

Zenith gave a sick laugh, wrenching in his throat to the point of a sob. "Of me, the kindhearted whimp, the stupid dad who lost his kid and got him back in the span of three minutes, who made some kid who didn't even realize what he was getting into kill himself." He sucked in air as though it had been drained from him as he looked into Nick's eyes, smiling to get the tears to stop as quickly as possible. He couldn't care that he wasn't meant to talk about that, that it was all some secret meant to weigh on his conscious, he couldn't.

"Of the sole survivor." He spat, like it was venom, though all of his features would've made you think he just gave the happiest news of his life.

He lifted himself up into an upright position, resting his face in his hands. "And now everyone knows... I wish I could just disappear, maybe if I had been holding Shaun, maybe if I had just taken him when Codsworth called us, I could just be gone right now. Maybe I deserved to bite the bullet!" He gave a bitter laugh as he wiped his eyes again.

"Or maybe I should've died of asphyxiation just like all of them." He muttered, turning his voice from broken and pathetic to cold, hateful.

"Stop it." Nick tightened his grip on Zenith's shoulder slightly, which got him to look up. The synth looked pissed, glaring into Zen's eyes as he looked from one to the other before continuing. "Don't say that. Don't talk like that." He insisted before he sighed, looking off to the side. "I get it, I do. Who else would get it as well as me?"

The detective shrugged and looked back at Zenith. "But you can't talk like that, because eventually, like... just a few days ago, you'll try to make those thoughts true. But I promise they aren't." He whispered, watching Zen's eyes water again. "They aren't."

With a shaky exhale, he pulled Zenith in for a hug. "And even if you're tired of you... I'm not. Shaun's not. Not a single person in this Commonwealth could find it in themselves to wish you ill, cause you saved 'em." He insisted, feeling Zen shake against him, dampening his coat, shirt, and tie. But he didn't care.

"I'm sorry it cost so much. If I could change it, I would." He began to rock from side to side, gazing out the gap in the wall. "But you did it. When put in a place nobody else could be in, you did it."

He felt Zen wrap his arms around him, letting out a sigh. "And we're loads thankful. And always here for ya."

The synth remained silent, though still rubbed his back, rocking, attempting to soothe Zenith, who, in this position,

could only think of how ironic his name was.

Chapter Text

Zen found himself wandering a lot the next couple of days. Hancock had been avoiding him, but was still in Sanctuary. Sometimes, he wondered if he was just stalking him and he couldn't see. But he knew the mayor better than that.

Nobody directly gave them back, except for Danse, who he suspected just wanted to visit, but Zenith found all of his weapons laying on the coffee table in his house. He spent a lot of time out, though, so he hesitated to take care of them.

He spent a lot of time watching Shaun play. He got along well with Nat, he noticed, and they seemed to be good friends. It was nice knowing that even if he had been 'raised' in the Institute, he didn't have trouble socializing.

But Zen also spent a lot of time avoiding everyone who wasn't Nick and Shaun. It felt strange, surreal almost, to talk to people after surviving something like that. Before, it would always be a whatever, or a be more careful! But once it was his own hand, it was like everyone was waiting for him to try again.

Which he was working towards not doing, but he'd be lying if he said the thought didn't linger. The same way the eyes of everyone in Sanctuary followed him, curious as to how he suffered a wound like that. How someone managed to lay the finger on the damn near invincible General of the Minutemen, hero of the Commonwealth, destroyer of the Institute. Let alone a bullet.

But he tried to pay it no mind, a healthy dose of concern in a community was nothing to dread.

Zenith found himself helping cook dinner a lot as well. Something fulfilling about watching everyone laugh and talk like everything was okay. Like everything was better than okay.

He looked around for a little while, just watching everyone eat from the sidelines, sitting on a bench he had thrown together a bit back. A long, long time ago, he might've thought of how this place couldn't ever be home. That it was all just some ruins that he couldn't ever imagine living in, slowly being filled by some wannabe militia with a big dream, an impossible dream.

But now, when he looked around at the life he had unintentionally breathed into this landscape, as piercing as the ice that had held him for two hundred and ten years...

It was hard to imagine another home.

So deep in thought, he didn't notice when Hancock sat down, only perking up when he heard the ghoul shake a tin of Mentats. Zen looked at him for a moment before sitting up and letting his back rest against the bench.

"Hey." The mayor greeted him, muttering it moreso, popping open the Mentats and sighing. "I been takin' a lot of these to figure out what to say to you." He continued, getting Zenith to look away. He knew everyone was hurt, but he had hoped Hancock would be the more forgive and forget type than the demanding answers type.

"That so?" Was all he could get out, dark brown eyes dodging to the right to avoid the voids of Hancock's bearing into him. "It certainly is." He held out the tin to Zen, who took two.

A moment of silence passed between the two, as though they were acknowledging everything, or at least, mulling it all over.

"I get it, y'know. You scared me and everything, but I'm sure Valentine already gave you a mouthful." He chuckled, letting his head fall back slightly as he looked at the setting sun. Zen swung his legs, letting the Mentats dissolve on his tongue. Heh. He thought.

Grape.

"Yeah, he did. I'm sorry." He said, speaking around his Mentat, voice muffled. Hancock scoffed. "No, I should be apologizin'." The ghoul leaned back and put his arm over the bench, turning to look at Zenith, who tensed. "No, no, there was no way you could've-"

"But I coulda."

A heavy silence as the twilight began to settle in, Hancock's calm demeanour only emphasized by Zen's tense, deer-in-the-headlight eyes.

"You remember when I told you 'bout how I got my name? My coat?" Hancock asked, tilting his head, shrugging.

Zen nodded, recalling Hancock's origin story, as he liked to call it. Hancock sighed and looked away, turning his head.

"That bender was one to meant all benders. I didn't want anything more. And I did a lot of the shit you pulled. The party, the gifts, all the extra. Cuz I was sayin' bye." His voice lowered, raspier than usual, distant. Zen bit his lip, sighing.

"That's how you figured it out." He concluded, looking away. Hancock chuckled, though nothing was quite funny. "Nick is a great detective... but nothin' beats experience."

He turned to face him fully, gently taking his friend's hands.

"You scared me."

There was something that cut so deep about that. The almighty mayor of Goodneighbor being distraught over some stupid vault dweller, too scared to confront him... God, he was an ass.

Tears that Zenith had hoped to surpress began to flood to his eyes before he pulled Hancock into a hug, or maybe he had been pulled by Hancock, it was all a blur, and he let out pathetic apology after apology.