I don't know why, but I think this pairing is adorable. I'm going to avoid describing or naming the Survivor. I think that makes it easier to picture her as you imagine yours. It does get hard to write when I'm limited to 'the woman, her, she' though, so if there's a better way to adress this character without using a name I pick I'd love to know. I don't usually write any sci-fi fanfiction, so feel free to correct any mistakes I make.
This is purely fanmade, I gain nothing from this expression of ideas.
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She was doing it again. Waiting until his eyes were off her to pop some chems, just so he would notice it. She only takes them around him. There isn't anything wrong with the occasional chem break, but he didn't understand why she forced herself to take them. The inhaler shook just slightly in her hand. Hancock was worried. She took everything. He has asked her once what her 'ride of choice' was, but she had avoided the question.
At first, he thought maybe she was only taking it for situations. A little Jet to gain an upper hand, or some Buffout to help take down an enemy. But she wasn't. She took them, he realized slowly over their travels, because he did.
"Hey uh, can I talk to you?" He asked at her back, coated in the thick black leather of the Courser uniform. It suited her, made her look intimidating. And she needed all the help she could with that.
"Yeah, do we need to stop?" Peeking over her shoulder, he saw the bags under her eyes. And the dilation. Her eyes looked red, her pupils wide.
"Yeah, that'd be good actually. Let's hole up for the night."
She nodded, and he pretended not to notice the look of relief. She can go on for days, and he admired that. Once Hancock saw the determined look in her eyes when she accepted a job, he knew it'd be a priority. And with the teleportation thing being built, her mind was full of tidying up loose ends. Mainly to keep her mind off the Institute.
A crumbling house off the road had a few Ferals in it, but it was nothing they couldn't handle. The rambling creatures never made him uncomfortable until he met her. Almost as if smashing a mirror, he took a swing with his shotgun at a radiated ghoul. The clawed hands, gnarled teeth, burnt skin… What horrifying creatures, and they had once been human. Maybe even been like him. He took a hit to the leg and as he went down, a bullet flew over his head. Gore sprayed over the doors, defying physics. He picked himself up and stared at her. That was close. A sheepish look greeted him. She wasn't always a great shot, but man when she was…
Rolling out the sleeping bags was the best part of the set up. He could watch her, amused grin on his face, and she dragged hers in circles. It was too close to the window, oh but this is too close to the door, and this is too close to him. Such a lady. Giving up, she threw it on the couch. A shrug from Hancock told her it was fine, he'll take the floor.
"So, whats up? Is something wrong?" She fidgeted with her nails, chipping away some slightly irradiated skin. Skin like his. He crossed his arms to avoid looking at his own hands.
"Well, yes and no. I've told you a lot about me, right?" She nodded, looking a little concerned. "I don't know a thing about you. You travel around like a Goddamn superhero, helping people and killing the bad guys. But why? And why so much hatred for the institute? Can't be you're just so passionate about Synths. You came out of a vault, I heard, but that's about it."
"Oh, I didn't mean to hide anything from you. What would you like to know?" Her voice sounded a little strained, or maybe he was imagining it. Her face looked as calm and passive as ever.
"And another thing, what the hell with the chems?" He pointed at the empty Mentat box by her couch.
That caused her eyes to widen. She avoided making eye contact for a moment before answering him, like she was sorting through her options. Honesty or a lie. Instead, she chose a safer option.
"Where did all this come from?"
"You only get high with me."
"You never seemed the type to judge before."
His face contorted. Yeah, the human had him there. He believes people should have the right to live the way they choose, right? What should he care about her chem use?
"You're becoming addicted." Hancock's voice was low, his black eyes piercing at her. "From too many in a short time. You have no tolerance. So why do this when I'm here, you don't actually want to get high."
Smiling, she held up her hands in defeat.
"You caught me. You pass some to me occasionally, and I never know what to do with them. I figured since you use all the time, it'd be like a...bonding experience." He couldn't help but catch her smile. They looked like grinning fools. Folding her arms behind her head, she fell back onto her sleeping back. Stargazing through the holes in the ceiling.
Hancock propped himself against the wall. Looking at the side of her face, lit up by the starry night sky, he almost forgot he knew next to nothing about her. He remembered, with a smirk, her flirtatious attitude once he had spilled his guts to her. More than friends, huh?
"If you have something to ask, go ahead." Her voice pulled him out of his musings. Her eyes were closed, but that was probably for the best.
"How long were you in the Vault?" He decided a safe question to subtly ask her age.
"Oh, when was the war? About two hundred years, give or take? I know, I sound loony, but it was a Cryo-Vault. Suspended on ice. Like a frozen dinner. And when I thawed out, I realized the life support for everyone else had failed. I was the only one left. Just me."
"Oh shit, I'm sorry I… I shouldn't have asked."
"Please, ask away. It's not so painful, honestly. I get bouts of depression and woes, but the people I've met now, the good I can do, it's been more than therapeutic."
Hancock let her words hang in the air for a while. He couldn't imagine. He'd heard gossip of course, but gossip isn't the same as hearing the truth from its source. Her eyes still shut, he took the time to examine himself. His nails, terribly hard and filthy. Almost like the claws of those Ferals. Almost. He took time on occasion to file them down, scratching at the walls of his office. Used to use that as a metaphor for trying to escape his duties.
"Did you lose anyone important?" He asked more to himself than her. Personal questions were hard to ask, but they'd been traveling together for so long, he thought they were close enough. At first he only got silence. But she let out a long sigh, her breath not so steady.
"Everyone. I lost my friends, my neighbors, my family. Kellogg shot my husband, took my son. Left me to rot with the rest of my town."
He wasn't with her when she confronted Kellogg, but he knew he worked for the Institute. Ah, that made more sense when he thought about it. He'd hunt anyone down who stole his community from him. Of course she'd feel the same.
"Thank you for telling me," he muttered. She didn't look emotional, but that didn't mean she wasn't hurting. Shit, with baggage like that, he wondered why she wasn't a hardcore chem user. But what she said about helping people, how that was therapeutic. That made sense. And it suited someone like her.
"Oh, and my favorite pizza is Pepperoni and my favorite show was the Silver Shroud. And I had this little green dress that was my absolute favorite thing to wear. I hate the color blue, and I never liked crab meat-"
"Woah woah," he grimaced, rubbing his temples.. And to his relief, she snapped back to her usual self and laughed with him.
"What, isn't this bonding?" Her head was turned towards him, a lopsided grin on her face. He didn't have such graceful features to return to her, but she could tell how he felt. She was good at reading others.
"You been hitting Jet if you're talking that fast."
Her nose scrunched up, and he saw a flash of guilt in her eyes. "That stuff smells and taste terrible. I don't know how anyone can try it twice." He decided not to mention it was made from dung fumes. "Unless they had a good reason I guess." He almost missed that whisper. He felt his face grow warm, and the blood in his veins felt like they were being pulled by her voice. Nah, he was not any good reason for a drug addiction. He remembered the trembling of her hands, the bloodshot look in her eyes. Getting her off the meds was his newest priority.
"Hey, don't use Chems anymore, okay? I'll stop using if you do." The ghoul desperately wanted this connection he felt with her. Wanted to solidify it best he could, let her know he wasn't going to leave her alone again.
"Heh, nah, don't change a thing about yourself. I don't think I can take the mayor going through withdrawal." She laughed, but he meant it. No more Chems. Not around her, and he planned to stay right by her till the end.