?, a piece of punctuation that had adorned his wrist from the day he was born. He could remember a youth with a question mark on his wrist. An unknown, an anomaly, a freak. It may have been better to have nothing on his wrists, rather than the ever present question mark. It was cruel. To leave him hanging like that. Waiting for the fates to decide on what to do with him. Maybe they didn't even know. Who would want to know him. The poor Mcdonough boy, not wanted by his family, not wanted by no one really, but his soulmate, this question mark, they'd care. He was quite sure.

He was high when the name changed, draped across one of the seats in the third rail, resting against someone nameless, he didn't care who they were, they just sold him his high. A high better than the highs from home. His 16 year old self convinced that Goodneighbor was a better home to him than Diamond City, he blended in here. He could be no one. Nothing. A nameless drifter. A rogue who just didn't fit in anywhere else. His brother didn't want to know him, who could blame him? Ashamed probably, 26 with friends in the upper stands. his parents were Dead. Wiped out by an epidemic that had struck out most of the city. Most of the older ones at least. He laughed in his high, slow and drawn out by the jet. He just had to survive didn't he, he'd got no one now, no one but ... He stared at his wrists, the ornate question mark adorning it. He fit in here. No one questioned the name. Most people's soulmates here had died, pre war or carried out on the high. Maybe he'd go the same way. Running out on life… maybe. Or maybe the question mark would save him, a beautiful enigma. Maybe...

He thought he'd gone insane when the question mark rubbed out on his wrist to be replaced slowly by a rather ornate 'Washington Noble', the words shimmered slightly before fading to black. He didn't believe his eyes, had the fates decided or had he just gone insane. He betted the later. He numbly shoved his hand in someone's face proclaiming 'read' flatly. They looked at him like he'd grown an extra head, 'Why do you need me to read that brother?', the ghoul replied raising his voice, 'Doess it even matter?', John replied in the same tone, slightly annoyed by the slur in his voice. The ghoul looked at him flatly, unamused. 'Look, I'll give you, I'll give you erm 10 caps, read it', John relied, desperation sinking in. He'd gone insane. He knew it. He handed the caps to the other ghoul. 'Washington Noble, pretty name brother, did you just want to hear it.' the ghoul lowered his voice and huskily repeated, 'Washington Noble' John shivered as the name was repeated, drawn out longer by the Jet, eyes half lidded in arousal as he looked up at the ghoul above him. Washington Noble, his name. His soulmate. 'Damn brother" the ghoul laughed "I bet your soulmate can't wait to find you, if that's what his name can do. Damn." The ghoul laughed again "Patriotic, my bet the damn kid is the son of a minuteman. Nobody else names their kid something that stupid.'

"It's not a ssstupid name" John slurred, his high catching up to him as he fought to stay awake "It'ss it'ss, unique"

He laughed, 'Noble, name rings a bell. You've got an easy find there brother.'

John couldn't believe it. He had a name, finally, a unique name. All his. Maybe someone did care, Finally. The son of a Minuteman, he repeated in his ment-jet high, honour, caring about the people, being for the people. He couldn't have a better name on his wrist. As he slipped out of consciousness,hope renewed in his veins, he stopped running, for a while and waited. Waited for his salvation.

At age 32, He'd seen the General killed before his eyes. Sudden. He watched his heart stop beating as the general died and a young blonde with hair like Thor, rammed a knife deep into the ferals chest. Eyes, cold, unfeeling, numb. He pulled the knife back out and slit the ghouls throat, before kicking the corpse. "Another monster out of its misery." he commented, harshly before commenting to one of Diamond City's guards to 'clean up the mess'. He picked up the body of the General, cradling it to his chest. "Washington" A woman commented next to him. A gravelly voice, more used to yelling than sympathy. "Washington, you can't blame that ghoul. You shouldn't have done that.".

Washington turned angry, "It'll be a good day in the commonwealth when all of them are dead."

The other woman's face turned sturn, "You don't mean that. Calm down."

"Calm down" Washington said, measured, dangerously, "I'm not going to calm down, Ronnie, Ghouls just murdered dad and, and, ghouls just murdered Dad." He sobbed halfway broken. The other woman, Ronnie hugged him and shushed leading him away, leaving John to look at the body and contemplate, Washington Noble, son of general Noble. It was obvious.

Part of John wanted to chase him down, to comfort him. The other part was angry. The fates had paired him with a racist, a ghoulist, and John was not just willing to put up with that sort of shit. Maybe he didn't need a soulmate, he tried to distract his thoughts from pretty blonde manes and sparkling blue eyes, and sharp cheekbones, and a strong jaw. He was perfect in all but attitude. John sighed, it's not like someone that attractive would want him anyway, he was obviously older, with scars down his arms from years of drug abuse, lanky hair and sunken eyes. He didn't seek him out. He didn't chase his soulmate, maybe, just maybe, he had someone else. It's not like he liked his attitude regardless, although he was in so much pain… John turned and walked away back home, trying to ignore the malicious grin his brother had as he stared at the ghouls corpse. He didn't care.

It didn't take a lot to convince him to run, run with the ghouls of Diamond City, run away from his problems. Maybe Goodneighbor was better for him, easier access to chems, making it easier to forget. He lived his life in a daze, drugs and strangers lips. He couldn't bring himself to care. Not anymore.

At age 34, He remembered the drifter dying. He stood frozen. Blonde hair and blue eyes, beaten down by Vic and his brutes. They'd all stood. Frozen. John stood up after the fact, shaking, he checked his wrist, the name was still there. Black, not greying yet. Thank god. He felt like scum, scum for his relief. Someone had died. Someone had died, it didn't matter who they were.

He held the radiation drug in his hand as he leant his weight against one of the rails in the statehouse. He didn't want to remember. He … he couldn't remember. How would his soulmate want him now? He stared at the drug… he knew what it was going to do. If he survived and he smiled. Death or life, he'd never have to see his face again. No more ratty hair and sunken eyes. No more relation to his brother in his face. Something else he could forget about, he didn't want his family anymore. As he fell unconscious he saw the clothes of John Hancock calling to him. If he lived he could start a new life he thought. Carried out on a high.

. Hed woke up of course, he'd lived, but he'd also died. John Mcdonough was no more, he was John Hancock, defender of the people, he vouched never again. Never again could Vic just walk over them, could he stand by and watch. He'd held his soulmates name, battered by the warp of his flesh, close to him, cherishing it like a half forgotten promise. He didn't dream of Washington and Hancock, American heroes. Like he wasn't haunted by bright sparkling blue eyes as he fell asleep, screaming accusations. He knew his soulmate wouldn't want him, the angry kid determined to make the monsters pay. But he was going to fight, fight for Washington, fight for Goodneighbor, of the people, for the people. He was going to fight.

He was 35 when he met his soulmate again, John Hancock, Mayor of Goodneighbour, impressive, far different from the ratty drug addict in Diamond City. Not that the drug addict part had changed, it probably never would at this point, living on a high. He hated the feeling of being clean ad much as he hated the feeling of withdrawal. He'd much rather be high.

He'd got to say, he didn't expect his soulmate to be found at the gates to his city, beating up his people, regardless of the nuisance that Flinn could be to visitors to the town. He'd also got to admit that he didn't expect his soulmate to be a ghoul. He didn't expect his soulmate to be stuck with a rad-tag group of survivors, desperate and in need to help.

He'd stared the stranger down at first, "So, a rad-tag group of survivors, lead by a ghoul of all things, turn up in my town and threaten my men. You know what, I'm impressed… Hancock paused staring up at the mysterious group. "John Hancock, Mayor of Goodneighbour," he introduced himself, shaking his hand, the other shook his hand back firmly, well practiced to the act, "General Washington. Washington Noble." John's heart stopped, his soulmate a ghoul? He wasn't going to outlive them, although Washington's eyes showed no recognition. Blank. Cold. Dead. Sparkling blue turned to cold ice. Maybe it was his old name on there, he wondered in denial. Wasn't there supposed to be a rush. Something. His soulmate showed him no recognition. It hurt. He started rambling about some political nonsense. Maybe he wasn't the one. Maybe there was another Washington. Or maybe fate was wrong. He forced himself to listen to Washington, and to not get distracted examining his face, sharp cheekbones and a strong jaw, the same blue eyes now circled by black rather than white. He was sure it was the same kid from Diamond City, Karma must have hit him hard, damn. He was handsome, pretty, even for a ghoul. Strong, defined face and muscles and a presence about him. He stood confident even with ratty clothes and talked smoothly, deeply. The voice had an husky tone, caused most likely by the damaged vocal cords but damn. The guy should have been on one of the shitty Vault tec posters for charisma. He looked perfect even as a ghoul.

He realised too late that Washington had stopped talking, he smiled awkwardly back at them. He tried to recall what he'd been saying, something about Quincy? Gunners? Fahrenheit elbowed him, whispering what was said in his ear, not quite discreetly enough for the general to not shoot him evils. Could he just keep his shit together for 5 minutes? "You're welcome here brother, all of you. The statehouse offers free lodgings, I'd recommend the Hotel Rexford however. They actually have beds there. There's a few shacks around as well, if you can convince the people in them to share. Anything else you need, just find someone. You're all welcome to settle down here. Goodneighbor is for the freaks that can't fit in anywhere else.". He watched the general walk off with the group to the Hotel Rexford, blankly ignoring him as he walked past. He couldn't believe that he wasn't the one, but how couldn't you react to your soulmates name? He walked back to the statehouse, popping a mentat and not for the first time, he wished he didn't have a soulmate. Life would be simpler without one. Wouldn't it?

Fahrenheit chased him down into the statehouse, slamming the door behind her, snapping his attention away. "What the hell was that about?" She asked in a pained whisper. John ignored her, staring at the vial of Med-X in his hands as if it was the most valuable object in the world. "For Fuck's sake John." her voice rose. "John" she said menacingly, ripping the needle from his hand. He turned faster than she thought possible. "What was that for?" he growled. "Give. It. Back."

She glared back at him, "Maybe when you grow up"

"I'm older than you," he remarked.

"Well act it." She snapped, "What got into you? You just had a complete and utter moment, you haven't tried some new drug have you?"

"No. He was just pretty, a smooth talker. Hot." he tried to resist the temptation to fiddle with his right wrist. She didn't need to know.

"The general?" She looked at him in confusion.

"Yes." He answered, simply.

"No. It was something else. You can't hide your emotions for a cap, tell me." she looked at him sternly. He angrily pulled his right sleeve up and shoved his wrist in her face.

"John." she glared at him, "Get your wrist out of my face right now, or I swear to god."

"Read it." he said flatly.

"Why would I?" She looked confused for a moment, "oh, damn. He's your soulmate? Why didn't he react?"

"I don't know." John muttered the fight leaving him as he collapsed against the sofa. "I can't blame him. Maybe it's just me, Far, me with the name? I saw him before in Diamond City, I never said a word, I'm not good enough. He's a minuteman, I'm a dirty addict, not a good match."

"John. Don't talk yourself down, you're the king of Goodneighbour, don't play unguarded, play strong." She passed the needle back to him, rather gently by Fareinheight's standards, John knew she must be concerned about him. "Don't you know. Do anything stupid. A queen can't win her chess match alone."

John looked up to her and smiled, "I thought you were my knight."

"No." She stared at him, "You don't need a soulmate. It's all bullshit. How can the fates know?" She left him behind to contemplate. Maybe it wouldn't hurt if his soulmate said no. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe he didn't it. The drugs were enough.

It was three days later when his soulmate came back to him. Well, less came back and more dragged by his ear, along with Mel, in the strong arms of Fahrenheit, "I caught these two idiots trying to break into your store room, along with Bobby. This idiot, she pointed towards Washington, was too stupid to stay put, and decided to throw him and his friend undercover. it's the only reason he's alive. Bobby is dead. It's one less piece to worry about."

"Well." Hancock strode towards them, "Well Brothers, I've got to admit that's the daftest thing I've ever seen anyone do. Mel, I'd expect that stupidity from you, but you?" he gestured at Washington, "Well brother, it isn't wise to stab the person who helped your outlet in the back. You break my heart" Washington glared defiant on his knees, while Mel shook. "What shall I do with you two? I should execute you, he slipped his knife from his wrist, "start talking".

"She lied to us. She lied" Mel's voice shook. "We thought we were going to take out Diamond City. We both had vendettas against there. I'm not , I'm not daft enough to make an enemy of you."

John looked down at Mel, "You're free to go, brother, just think next time. Don't trust the low-lifes. Go to Ham and see if he wants any jobs doing in the third rail. Now you Washington, what do you have to say for yourself?" Washington looked away, angrily. "Speak Brother.". Washington looked back up at him. "Are we running a sermon Hancock? Repent thy sins! Repent they mistakes!" dry wit filling his tone.

"Cut the attitude." Hancock snapped back, "What were you doing in my storeroom?"

Washington glared, "Browsing the wares… the fuck do you think? Maybe I wanted to get revenge on the bastard who was supposed to be my soulmate till I turned ghoul. Maybe I was a tad bitter. Maybe I was just sick of fate tossing me around like a damn rag doll. I go away from Diamond City to see the 'New Soulmate' inspecting me like damn cattle. I'm done with all this bullshit".

"Wait. My brother was your soulmate? He doesn't…" John trailed off.

"We don't have to get into this. Aren't you supposed to be mad at me?"

"Yes. But. This is more important." He looked into Washington's eyes. "Show me your wrist."

"No way in hell." The answer was immediate. Sudden.

"Why not?" John answered bitterly.

"I'm a ghoul". The sullen answer was returned.

"Does it matter?" he saw the others eyes lower in a fit of self consciousness. "For the sake of holy Atom above," He shoved his wrist in front of Washington. "Read it and weep. Washington Noble. Wash-shing-ton No-bell. It's your name. Show me."

Washington reluctantly pulled his glove of his left arm, fiddling with a piece of armour underneath as he did it. "Read it then".

John looked at Washington's wrist. "I hate to tell you, but that's my name." He said with a small smile. "I'm glad I've got you." Washington glared, "What about the first name, John Mcdonough? Why would I want you more."

"Hate to disappoint," Hancock shrugged, "but, I'm him. I changed my name. We can't have two Mayor Mcdonough's. It'd get confusing brother."

Washington stared straight ahead avoiding eye contact. "Soulmates are Idiotic. I don't believe in them. Maybe I don't want what fate wants for me. I'm sorry John." He muttered "I'm not dating someone I just met. Much less believing I'm destined to be with you."

"You don't believe. How?" John hated the desperation in his voice.

"There's no evidence. Look. Just forget it. I don't want a soulmate." Washington looked stern.

"At all?" he looked, pleading.

"No. I'm heading out with a team to the castle tomorrow and you won't have to see us again. I don't want to be your soulmate. Or anyone else's. " Washington turned to walk away. "It was nice meeting you mayor. I hope the names can't come between an official relationship." he closed the door to Hancock's room behind him with a soft click.

John was vaguely aware of Fahrenheit tapping him on the arm and commenting that Washington was harsh, he shrugged her off. He didn't need her pity, he had enough of his own. He felt like his world was slipping from under him. Fahrenheit pulled him down with her as he began to cry angrily. He hated how easy it was too make him cry, damn his soft Diamond City roots. "He doesn't want me Far," he muttered, despairing, "He doesn't want me.".

John couldn't tell if Fahrenheit didn't notice, or didn't think it wise to bother him as he pulled out a Med-X needle and jabbed it into his vein. It was obvious she didn't expect him to inject the whole needles worth, as she moved quickly in panic as his head lolled and his heart slowed. He saw her mouth moving, but he couldn't make out the words, she was fading from his vision as he stared up at her. Unimportant. He pretended it didn't hurt that his soulmate didn't want him as his life faded along with the ability to care. He'd ran out on so much already. What else was life now?

Washington cried as the name faded from his wrist, an intense pain that ached despite there being no wound left to see. Part of him was glad when the Mirelurk Queen Killed him, the ache gone. The fates stopped. Peace.

The poor Mcdonough boy, John Hancock, his life ended like a full stop at the end of a sentence, an ellipsis that couldn't be continued from…