DISCLAIMER: I do not own Bethesda. If I did, you would be able to talk about a lot more emotional things.
One could have called her the Scourge of the Night if they saw her now. Red droplets splattered around her as blood slid from her hair to her armor to the floor. Smears of dirt and guts decorated her face like warpaint.
Hancock was captivated.
She took a step towards him, allowing her hunting rifle to clatter to the floor. "I need a hit," she wheezed.
"Skipping past the small talk now are we Sunshine?" the ghoul teased. She grunted, easing herself down on the couch across from him. "Normally you turn your nose up at my vices, what's up Buttercup?"
She glowered at him. "Just hand me some Jet or Mentats or something and shut up." She paused, noting the concern flickering in his eyes. "Please."
Hancock's black eyes narrowed as he reached into his pocket for the Berry Mentats he had stashed away. Dangling them like he would a chunk of Cram for her dog, he continued the tease. "Not until you spill the beans. What's got you so desperate today that you'd-"
His eyes widened. He'd never seen Jemma move so fast. He caught a glimpse of her switchblade a few seconds too late. She pressed it against his neck as gently as one could with a sharp blade. "I thought I asked you to shut up, please." He released his grip on the box. She climbed off of him and scooped up the drugs hungrily. He continued to eye her as she made her way back to her couch, setting one on her tongue and closing her eyes.
"Jemma," he started.
Still with her eyes closed, she exhaled, almost as if deflating. "Just…give me a minute…please." This time, her please didn't sound so forced; it sounded broken.
"Jemma, the sun's gone out of your eyes. I know I'm not the kind of your band to care as much, but I'm starting to get a little concerned." He watched her closely, trying to pinpoint any injuries, scars, anything to give him a hint as to what was wrong. If he hadn't been so focused, he might have missed the slight shake of her head. "Okay, well then maybe just start with telling me where all this blood came from."
Her chuckle caught him off guard. "The blood of my enemies cleanses my soul," she stated darkly.
She stiffened at his touch, but he didn't remove his hand from her arm. Peeking one eye at the mayor, she sighed. "Preston and I ran into a nest of Super Mutants on our way here."
"Any injuries to report?" Hancock took both her shoulders in his hands gently, still inspecting her exposed skin for any wounds.
"None yet." She paused, before smirking. "Although I can't speak for Preston later. I left him down at Kleo's booth and we both know he's terrible at talking himself out of awkward situations. She may flirt him to death." Hancock even breathed a laugh at that one.
For a moment, they let their chuckles hang in the air. Jemma, not wanting to pull away from the safety of Hancock's arms, held her breath. Maybe, just maybe, she could pause life for a moment and just be happy. She was owed that much, wasn't she?
Hancock was the first to break the spell. "Jemma, sunshine, please, what happened? I've seen you face those muties before, they've never broken you like this." She stiffened at his choice of words. Standing upright, his hands fell away.
"Broken? You think I'm broken? Ha!" She threw her head back. "I am anything but. What was it that bastard called me? 'The most resilient women in the Commonwealth'. I am far from broken, Hancock." Turning away from the ghoul, her blond curls whipping into her vision, she began the short march to his office door.
Hancock growled and flung himself at the door, blocking her exit. Her hand hovered over the switchblade holster at her left hip. "Dammit Jemma, something is wrong and I demand to know what it is!"
"You have no right to demand such thing!" She shrieked at him, her eyes going wild. "You're not like Preston or Nick or hell, even Piper who has thrown everything they have at finding my son! You're the junkie who wanted a travelling buddy to help get his head on straight! We've had our laughs but now real life has begun and by God, you aren't with it!"
His fist slammed backwards into the wooden door, giving it a slight shake. "You think I'm not devoted to you? You think I wouldn't give anything to help you find your son? To help you be happy again? To be whole? Have you not been listening to a word I've said?"
"Then where were you?!" She roared. She took two steps to be nose to nose with her ghoul. Her mayor. Her breathing was forced, heavy, angry. But her chin quivered. "Where were you?" She whispered, giving in to the weak betrayal of her body. Her hands groped for his jacket as her knees refused to hold her up another second. Hancock followed the motion of her body, gracefully holding her against him. He had so many questions for his vault dweller.
"I found him," she choked out, her cheeks suddenly becoming wet with tears. "I found him, John." The mayor jerked slightly at her use of his first name. Glancing down, he could see Jemma shaking as if she had been frozen to her bones yet again.
"You son? You found him?" Hancock repeated dully, unsure of how to respond. Shouldn't she be happy?
She nodded in response, burying her face in his ruffled white shirt. "He's…Kellogg was telling the truth. He really was in the Institute."
"But," Hancock urged. He played at her fingers, trying to encourage Jemma to show her face and finish the story.
"But Kellogg didn't tell me everything. Maybe…maybe he didn't know everything…" she sighed shakily, pushing back from Hancock slightly so she could see his face better. His ghoulish, mottled, beautiful face. "Shaun is…he is the Institute."
Hancock could feel his jaw drop, betraying his orders to remain neutral until the story was over.
"It's been sixty years since they took him," Jemma continued, her eyes dulling until it seemed she was reciting one of her pre-war poems. She pushed herself away completely, staggering to her feet. Hancock followed her up, holding his hands out to steady her, should she need them. "My baby boy was raised by scientists, in the way of logic and progress. They raised love out of him." Bitterness began clouding her voice as she turned away towards the window. She took a deep breath. "I relayed into the Institute using the plans Virgil sketched for me about a week ago. Sturges helped me build it. When I got there, I had my guns out, ready to take out anyone who stood in my way. I was going to get my baby out of there, dammit!" She slammed her fist on the window ledge. "But, there was no one. As I snuck around the abandoned hallways, a man spoke to me over the intercom. He told me he knew I'd be coming, that I was too resourceful to not. He was…happy, I was there. He guided me to where I needed to go, or, I guess, where he wanted me to go. He knew why I was there, for Shaun. And then the door opened and, I thought I had him."
She swallowed the impending sobs deep in her chest. She had to make it through the story. Someone deserved to know the truth. Even if that someone was her drugged-up ghoul. "He stood behind a glass wall, my little Shaun. Ten years old, just like in the memory of Kellogg's. I was desperate, probably played a huge part in his freaking out. But, of course he wouldn't know who I was…he had never known my face. He kept calling out for a "Father", saying I was trying to take him away." She whirled around and glared at Hancock. "Damn right I was!" Her gaze softened, as if remembering where she was and who she was talking to. She turned away again.
"This gray-haired man strode into the room and with a few simple words, my little boy-" she choked on the words, "flopped over like a toy that needed winding." Steadying her breaths, Jemma continued, "he was just a synth. She could hear Hancock's sharp intake of breath behind her. She could guess the look on his face. A small, sad smile overtook her lips. "You can bet I pulled my knife to his throat the same I did to you," she chuckled. "I told him he'd better give me my real son right now or else there were going to be some serious problems." She turned back towards John Hancock and leaned against the window sill, looking up at the ceiling as if mesmerized by a pleasant memory. But as she leveled her gaze back at her companion, her eyes lost the hint of mirth teasing their corners. "That's when he told me. He was really my son. And that's when I saw it…Nate's nose, Nate's lips, my cheekbones. He really is my Shaun. But yet…he's not." She hung her head in defeat. "He was taught to use his brain, but not his heart. He called his father's death, 'an unfortunate bit of collateral damage'," she spit out venomously, as if the words themselves were poison. She shook her head sharply, glancing back at Hancock with her eyes. "He dared to say that, to my face. When he'd known since the start that it's only been six months for me! He's had sixty years to live with the decisions of his kidnappers, but I have only had six months!"
She strode towards Hancock, her fists balling at her side. "He let me out!" She screamed. "He let me out of that goddamn cryopod because he wanted to see what I would do!" She punched the wall next to Hancock's shoulder, shrieking in pain from the impact. She fumbled in her pocked with her noninjured hand, shaking off Hancock's concern with the other. Popping another Mentat into her mouth, Jemma's breathing calmed, and she backed away. "I was just another experiment to him, but he keeps trying to tell me how much it means to him that I am there. He wants me to be proud of him. After all these years," Jemma gripped the arm of the couch to steady herself as she could feel her muscles begin to give way again. "After all these years, he still wants his mother to be proud of what he's accomplished, but has no concept that what he's been doing his whole life is so screwed up." She tossed her head back again and laughed harshly. "And if that wasn't enough, to nail my coffin shut, I have spent the last six months of my life chasing after a baby-turned-ten year old-turned sixty year old psychopath who is dying from cancer!" She laughs again. "Two hundred and ten years have passed and the most brilliant scientific organization in the world has created synthetic beings who are sentient and identical to humans but can't even be bothered to find the cure for cancer."
This time, she didn't stiffen at Hancock's soft touch. This time, she leaned into his arms, allowing him to embrace her softly. He silently stroked her blond locks as she began to sniffle again.
"John, he wants me to stay with him," she whimpered. "He wants me to join him and run the Institute with him. He's dying, and he wants me to continue his life's work." Hancock pulled her to face him and gripped her tighter. "What do I do?" she sobbed.
"Well sunshine," he began hoarsely, all hopes of emotional neutrality lost, "I say you're the one that's going to have to figure that out for yourself. I can't tell you who to damn to hell." She shuddered into his shirt. "But," he started, his voice regaining some strength, "I do know that you make a hell of a leader no matter where you go, and if you want to stay with your son in the Institute, you're going to do a damn good job." He smiled at her, hoping she wouldn't catch the bitterness he felt in his heart at the very thought of her loyalties.
She continued staring at his feet, gripping his shirt, refusing to make eye contact.
The ghoul reached for her chin with his coarse fingers, urging her gaze to meet his. "And I promise, I will be with you no matter what you choose."
Her bloodshot eyes challenged his pitch black ones, searching for confirmation his pledge was true.
"Can I stay with you tonight?"
He blinked twice, unsure if this was his mental fantasy again or if she actually spoke those words this time. "What?" He asked dumbly.
She gently moved her hands to meet behind his neck, still holding on for dear life. "Please John…I…I don't want to be alone tonight. I can decide who lives or dies tomorrow but, just for tonight, I want to live." She leaned into the crook of his neck. "I know that no matter which side I choose, one of them will retaliate. One of them will die. And it will be my fault. Just for tonight, I want to pretend I don't have the fate of the Commonwealth on my shoulders. Just for tonight, I want to be a normal girl. Just-"
His lips wouldn't allow hers to finish.