"You've got to be kidding me."
John Hancock, Mayor of Goodneighbor, looked down at Nora. The unintended time-traveler looked up from where she crouched on the ground, her head turned over her shoulder to look at the Mayor. The ghoul sighed, then reached into his pocket to fish out a cigarette or a canister of Jet. . . something that might take the edge off for a minute. And he was fresh of Mentats.
"Hancock," Nora said, her voice lower, lacking the light emotion she usually possessed. John scowled a little at that, the corners of his mouth turning down into a grimace. He considered himself to be a friend to Nora after traveling with her for the past week or so, and he prided himself in recognizing when 'Wanderer Nora' transformed into 'Survivor Nora.' Her voice hardened as her eyes glimmered with determination, and she moved like a rad-panther stalking its prey, all stiff and powerful while remaining flexible and loose at the same time.
Nora was like that now, and John groaned as he came to stand at where Nora crouched over her newest find. "Come on, sunshine, you can't be serious." He looked down at the thing in her arms with clear distaste. "We are not taking that thing with us."
John didn't know that someone could look menacing while kneeling on the ground, but damn if Nora wouldn't figure out a way to do just that. Despite wearing dusty old eyeglasses, her green eyes pierced through the faded lens, her dusty pink lips pursed as she glared from beneath her brow.
And in her arms?
A small infant, a baby belonging to the raider camp they had just destroyed.
"It's a raider," John insisted.
Nora glared at him. "It's a baby, John."
Made no difference to him. The ghoul scoffed, hefted his rifle over his shoulder to show how little he cared. "Born from raiders, fed and cared for by raiders, probably given a raider name. It's a raider. Ain't our responsibility in the Commonwealth to take care of every struggling thing." His piercing black eyes regarded the barely moving lump of a human mercilessly. "Looks near death anyway. Besides-" he shook his head absently, "who's gonna take care of it?"
His traveling companion glared at him, determined and rebellious and formidable. "You can't honestly tell me you're judging this infant based off of who it's family is, are you, Hancock?"
Okay, Nora had a point, but even if he acknowledged that internally, didn't mean he had to like it. His hairless brows furrowed at her as a pit turned in his stomach. "Fuck you," he growled.
Nora laughed, her smile causing the sun to shine brighter and the air to turn warmer so that John had to look away. From the corner of his eyes, he saw her begin to fiddle with the clasps of her armor so it hung lop-sidedly off her chest. "Just shut up and watch my six, okay?"
Confused, he watched as she reached with one arm to the other clasp of her armor, releasing it so the breastplate slid from her torso, and she shuffled her position so it slid to the ground. With the same hand, Nora grabbed the hem of her white t-shirt and began to roll the fabric up her chest, exposing the smooth and soft skin of her stomach. Then the white of her Pre-War bra, and then she was shoving that last piece of fabric up-
What is she- John thought, his eyes wide and staring before he suddenly realized that Nora was exposing herself.
This woman out of time managed to do something to Hancock that he hadn't done in a long, long time.
He blushed.
Hancock turned so fast on his heels he was surprised he didn't pass out or fall over. "What are you doing?!" he asked, his voice a little snappy as he totally averted himself to what she was doing.
She laughed again, and he squinted at the sun. "What are you doing?" she countered. "Just watch for danger, okay? I don't intend to die because someone snuck up on us while I was unarmored for doing this."
"Doing what- what could you possibly be doing that would require you to – to -"
"Oh Hancock will you just relax? I figure you of all the people I travel with would at least know what a human breast looks like. No need to get your britches all twisted."
His face was much warmer than he was accustomed to it being, and he one hundred percent blamed her for this happening. The Mayor held his gun close to his chest like a security blanket. "If you had to change clothes you could have just-"
Nora's voice cut through his words, "I'm not changing clothes, you bafoon."
He risked a glance over his shoulder before turning his whole body her way so he could glare at her eye to eye. In reality he wasn't truly angry at her, mostly just upset that she had unknowingly spurred such a strong reaction from him. "Then what could you possibly be-"
John Hancock froze, his exclaim cut off mid-sentence.
Nora cradled the bundled-up infant in her arms, sitting cross-legged on the ground with one breast exposed from underneath the hem of her shirt. She held the baby raider close as it latched on to the peak of the soft flesh, nursing greedily. The evidence of Nora's kindness slid down from the infant's mouth in the form of one white droplet.
All thoughts of what John understood about Nora flew out the window to be replaced with this new discovery, followed immediately by a rush of understanding and dread.
"You-" he started, embarrassingly at a loss for words.
She turned her head to look at him, unashamed, the sadness in her eyes betraying the softness of her smile as she slowly rocked back and forth. "Me," she said.
John approached his companion slowly, and lowered his rifle reverently to the ground as he approached her. His words clogged up in his throat, "Sunshine, I didn't know you- After all this time-"
"He was two months old," she said, "when the Institute took my son from my husband's arms and shot him dead." Her sad green eyes turned back to the suckling baby in her hold. "My firstborn, I barely even got to know him before they snatched him and the meaning of my life away from me."
John didn't know what to say, and even if he did, there was the whole other question of how he was supposed to say it. What do you say to a woman who's lost everything she knew and held so close and dear to her heart?
"I'm sorry, Nora," he apologized.
She smiled patiently at the ghoul, and looked back to the infant with tears shining in her eyes. "It doesn't matter, now," she murmured. "All of that is in the past."
She sounded so dismissive of it, and he inched forward a little closer so he could get more in her face. He knelt to the ground, groaning as he shifted his weight to his knees so he was eye-level with her. "No it's not, Nor. If that were all in the past and forgotten, you wouldn't be able to do what you're doing right now." The ghoul looked down at the baby, who blinked lazy blue eyes up at its savior. "You wouldn't be able to save this stupid baby. Because of who you are and what happened to you over 200 years ago, you were able to come and save this little raider idiot all on your own." John looked at Nora, and his face and voice seemed to be impossibly soft as he watched a slick tear go down her face. "That's all you, doll," he murmured.
Nora sniffed; her eyes burned with red as her face flushed; a bit of snot formed at her nose. "Dammit Hancock, don't make me cry." She rubbed her face at her shoulder to wipe some of the tears forming in her eyes, causing her glasses to become misaligned on her face.
"Sorry," he apologized breezily with a cocky grin, "force of habit."
"Yeah I bet," she scoffed sarcastically, her voice choked.
The ghoul watched her, and he couldn't help but inch a little closer so he could gaze at the ancient practice of a human mother feeding a child. "You're beautiful, you know," he felt the need to remind her. He felt her glance at him in question. "This is beautiful," he gestured to her off-handedly. "The ability to provide for a child like this, I think it's a miracle."
"Children are a miracle," she murmured, and turned her eyes back to the child.
Hesitating for just a moment, but then choosing to go for it, Hancock adjusted his position so he could sit on the ground with her. He sat so his chest was close to her back, propping himself up with one hand on the dusty ground behind her. The ghoul got himself as comfortable as he could close to Nora, her body almost cradled between his arm and chest as he gazed between her and the suckling babe. His chest warmed with the sun on his back as he took in the glow between a mother and a child. "You ever think about it?" he asked with intentional vagueness as he studied the warmth and glow in her eyes.
She smirked, and he knew she caught what he was playing at by being so deliberately vague. "Think about what?" she asked.
"Having . . . more," he said, leaving a space for her to fill in the gaps.
"More kids?" she asked. She shuffled her position a little where she sat so her back leaned a little more towards his chest. The mayor couldn't help but lean in just slightly as he looked over her shoulder, the contact thrilling him. He could almost rest his chin in the hollow of her neck, but fear prevented him from being that bold.
He waited patiently for her answer, and she heaved a sigh while gazing at the infant. "No," she said. "After everything that happened with the Institute, with Shaun. I'm done."
Hancock felt a flash of hot and coiling guilt in his stomach when he felt relief pass through him, and he looked away.
If Nora sensed his discomfort, she ignored it, and continued speaking quietly. "I don't think I would want to bring a child into this world, anyway."
His curiosity piqued. "Because of how violent it is? How messed up and dangerous it is?"
She huffed a laugh, and looked at the mayor over her shoulder. His breath caught; they were nearly touching noses.
Nora didn't seem to mind, unperturbed by their proximity. "The world has always been dangerous, Hancock," she said with a smirk. "This one is just unwilling to hide it."
"You got that right," he said, chuckling softly as he tried not to let himself get caught in the spell of her shining green eyes.
She turned her head to look at the infant, and he was momentarily bathed in the scent of her hair. She must have washed it with some kind of soap – it smelled clean. A habit she must have carried over from her time. He didn't mind.
"It's more than the danger, though," she went on. She shrugged with one shoulder. "It doesn't fit my lifestyle anymore. The journeying and endless travel. Working as a Railroad Agent, the General to the Minutemen and a Paladin in the Brotherhood. I sometimes go weeks without sleeping in a safe place like Diamond City or Goodneighbor, it's not exactly something I want to bring a kid into."
Hancock's voice fell soft. "You could give it up, though. Settle down in the city or in one of your settlements." His throat was choking up. Must be the dust in the air - "Find a nice guy to call a home with-"
"I already had that," Nora said, and she bunched her shoulders together before relaxing them as she adjusted the infant in her arms. "But I love all this too much." She looked up at the destroyed camp around her, at the blue Commonwealth sky and the heat of the sun shining down. "I couldn't give it all up for farming in some settlement. I love this world too much, now." Her swept gaze settled on the mayor so close to her, who was absolutely blushing at this point, but he prayed it was hard to tell from the glare of the sun or the stretched tautness of his skin.
The silence between them rested into something warm and comforting, almost overpowering, and as John stared into her eyes and seemed to gravitate towards her, he could have sworn she was leaning forward, too.
"Is that selfish?" she asked him. He tasted her breath and felt the brush of air against her lips; he could hear his heartbeat in his ears, and the ghoul nearly shivered as his body seemed to flush with hot and cold at the same time.
"Not selfish at all, sunshine," he said, surprised that his voice came out as a reverent murmur. "It's just you choosing what's best for you."
Her smile was soft and appreciative; she glanced away, looking almost bashful as she shifted the infant in her arms. "He's all done," she said. And just like that, the spell between them was broken.
A breath of air escaped the mayor in a soft gasp, one he hoped she didn't hear, despite his closeness. He leaned over her shoulder a little more to watch her adjust the babe as she tucked back into her shirt and moved the infant to be cradled in her other arm. Hancock tried as hard as possible to chase away the feeling he and Nora had just experienced together, leaving his mind distracted and causing him to miss what Nora said next.
He looked at her, something dazed in his eyes as he stared at Nora's expecting expression. She gazed at him quietly, and he let out an embarrassed and stunned, "Wh- What?"
Nora rolled her eyes, and laughed under her breath. "I said, mayor, that I might have an idea of where we can take the baby."
(**)
"Do you really think we can do it?" Jun Long asked his spouse.
Marcy regarded Nora and the mayor coolly, her eyes narrowed in her typical grimace. However, it softened when she looked back to the baby held in her arms. "I think we can, Jun," she answered crisply, something like steeled determination in her voice. She looked up at her spouse to verify, "But only if you think we can, too."
The man gazed at the infant, stepping closer to brush his finger along the forehead of the sleeping babe. After a thoughtful moment, something in his expression warmed and softened as well, and a smile edged up the corners of his lips. "I think so," he said, the gentleness in his voice a perfect opposite to Marcy's hardened resolve.
Nora returned their smiles with one of her own, and Hancock looked on thoughtfully. "Let us know if there's anything I can get for you guys, okay?" she offered. "I can't imagine what kind of challenges there are raising a child out here."
Jun smiled kindly in turn, "Thank you; we will. We already have so much here at Sanctuary. Food, water, shelter, protection . . . we couldn't ask for more." It might have been the sun or Hancock's imagination, but he could have sworn there were tears in the man's eyes.
Nora nodded humbly, and with a soft gesture to Hancock, stepped away. The Mayor turned towards her smoothly, falling in step alongside her evenly as they headed to he bridge that would take them over the river.
"They'll be okay?" John asked.
His companion nodded. "Jun and Marcy lost their son in Quincy. The baby won't replace him, but . . . they're the only people I could think of that might be willing and capable parents."
John looked down at his feet, his boots kicking up dust as they walked along the old road of Sanctuary. Soon the dusty pavement road made way for old and creaking wood as they crossed the bridge. He stepped to the side to allow Nora to cross the narrow part before him, and John offered up his own thoughts, "Seems like they'll take to the role alright." The wind whistled in his ears, and the mayor looked up to breathe in the freshness and scent of water from the river, and the hot, sour taste of the Commonwealth air. Ahead of him, Nora's dark hair turned in the wind, exposing the back of her neck where he knew there was a scar from her time in the Vault. "Where we heading now?" he asked.
"We'll rest at the Red Rocket for the night," she said, casting a glance to the sky. "Head out in the morning. I could use some rest."
The mayor nodded, and went ahead so he could walk at her side once the road expanded out again. "You don't want to spend the night in Sanctuary?" he asked, moderately surprised at the choice.
Nora shook her head. "No. I kind of want some time to myself, you know?"
The stopped Hancock in his tracks, and his throat suddenly felt as dry and dusty as the road they walked on. And why was his chest hurting from when she said that? "Well, sunshine, I don't mind staying at Sanctuary if that's what you -"
She spun towards him, her eyebrows lifted in surprise. "Oh! John – no! I didn't mean – I meant -" He watched as her face began to flush warm and pink in the light of the sun setting over the 'Wealth. He saw her swallow almost nervously, and he fought to keep a smirk down. It was always rare and hilarious to watch when Nora lost her usual charm and ability to weave words like they were threads of silver and gold. She was a bit of a charmer, and she didn't often get flustered.
Still tongue-tied, she made an attempt to reign in her words, "I mean – I wouldn't mind if you came with me – I wasn't saying I don't want – I don't not want you to-"
"I'm just pulling your leg, Nor," he soothed her, his smile softening.
She looked confused for just a few moments, and then the tension in her expression eased. Some control seemed to return to her, and her voice came out genuine and sincere, "I don't want you to think that I don't want you with me, John." The man couldn't deny the thrill that went down his spine as she used his first name. "I enjoy having you with me. I wouldn't keep you around otherwise."
He felt raw and vulnerable before her, and he drew his shoulders back to give off a false air of confidence. "Of course," he said dismissively. "Wouldn't want you to come to your senses anytime, soon."
She scoffed at his self-deprecation, and drew up one hand to brush some hair behind her ear. "Well come on then, Mayor. Let's settle in for the night."
Hancock couldn't keep his smile down, and he walked after her, his steps smooth as he went.
The rest of the short walk was kept in quiet between the two. The only accompanying sounds were the Commonwealth wind and their steps on the concrete beneath them.
Ahead, the red rocket gas station loomed above them, and with it, Nora's base.
Cleverly, she had managed to get enough beams of wood and sheets of metal to set up a small shack. The door needed to be opened by starting the generator, and with well-built walls, Nora had created a small and secure place for herself. Inside, John knew there would be an icebox of supplies, a small stash of medical supplies, and a soft bed to sleep on.
"Let's drop our stuff and we can get started on a fire for some food," Nora said easily enough, walking up the secured staircase that led to the lowest part of the roof.
"Sure, sunshine," he said.
They busied themselves quietly. John followed Nora up the stairs, casting his eyes to the left where he saw two lawn chairs set up at the highest part of the old gas station roof. The ghoul had warm memories sitting in one of those chairs, shooting the breeze with Nora has he nursed a drink or took a hit of Jet, just watching the Commonwealth below after a fun day of raising trouble.
The mayor watched as Nora went to the back of the shack to activate the generator. A moment after she disappeared behind the corner, John heard the machine rumble to life, and the string lights above the door flickered on.
At that signal, John stepped forward into the small shack, placing his packed things on the floor next to the ice box in the corner. His eyes swept across the room in a standard check to ensure it was safe, and from the silence, knew it was.
There was a single bed at one corner of the room, somehow perfectly preserved and clean despite the ever-pervading dust and grime the Commonwealth so readily provided. There was also a neat and clean dresser, a magazine rack filled to the brim with old published works, and a small kitchen table set for two, the whole shack illuminated with lights strung up along wire.
For John, the most peculiar thing about the whole shack was the object set next to Nora's bed. A plastic evergreen Christmas tree glow in the corner, the multicolored lights giving the room a kind of ambiance that exuded warmth and coziness. Plastic candy canes and spherical ornaments adorned the branches, and the whole thing was topped with a glowing silver and golden star. Nora said Christmas was her favorite holiday back from the Old World, and it was a shame the Commonwealth didn't celebrate it as much today.
John himself remembered setting up the Christmas trees in Diamond City as a child – not totally understanding what the point of the holiday was.
"It's all symbolism," he recalled one of the Diamond City denizens saying, an old woman with a floppy hat and a withered face. Her pinched voice squeaked out, "The trees represent putting up new guards and protection around our home – like the Wall that protects us. The lights represent the radiation, which is blocked from reaching us by the protection we have."
"And the orbs?" a younger John asked before he went ghoul, his corn silk hair tumbling from his low ponytail tied at the back. "What are they supposed to represent?" he asked with a sarcastic sneer, "Bullets?"
The old woman shook her head. "Bombs."
John raised one skeptical eyebrow. "The candy canes?"
"Supermutants."
"Ri-ight."
John shook his head, chuckling as he thought of the memory while gazing at the tree before him. It wouldn't be until he talked to some Pre-War ghouls or to Nora where he would really hear about the origins of the old holiday. It enchanted him to hear Nora talk so passionately about old practices and traditions long gone – the action of exchanging presents to loved ones as a time of giving, the spiritual connection felt with the rest of humanity to make a vow of kindness and peace at the start of the new year.
"That's one thing I'm always going to miss."
John turned his head at the sound of his companion, stepping aside so she could join him in gazing at the lit up Christmas tree. She slipped next to him, quiet as a radrat, and admired the glowing lights and green plastic of the tree. "It was the most beautiful time of the year, and the most friendliest. People were kinder – and it was a time to connect with family and friends."
The mayor found it easy to turn his eyes from the tree to his companion, his eyes softening as he stared quietly at Nora. "Bet you'd do anything to have your family here with you."
Nora pressed her lips together thoughtfully, forming a thin line, and shook her head resolutely. "No," she said, much to his surprise. He waited for her to elaborate, gave her time to gather her thoughts, but she said nothing.
After several moments of quiet in the small shack, Nora's voice cut through the silence. "What about you, John?"
His brain struggled to catch up, "What about me?"
She gave an off-handed shrug. "Family," she supplemented, as if that was supposed to mean something to him. Her wide green eyes looked up at him curiously. "You asked me if I wanted a family after all this – if I wanted a child, or to settle down . . . do you want that?"
He blinked, and frowned at the question. "That question seems a little out there, don't you think?"
Nora shrugged again, wordlessly looking up at him expectantly as she waited for him to answer.
A touch embarrassed by her frankness, John glanced away. He allowed himself to entertain the idea of having a family, retiring from the Mayor business to the life of a farmer or trader or caravan guard, fighting off supermutants or raiders, tearing apart feral ghouls, protecting his family.
He thought of fighting alongside Nora as they already did, wandering the Commonwealth with the spirit of adventure radiating through them.
"Honestly?" John asked with a carefree shrug of his shoulders and a grin that screamed mischief. "I've never been one to settle down for the quiet lifestyle. And after fighting so hard for Goodneighbor, I don't think I could ever give it up."
Nora nodded thoughtfully. "I understand," she said. "I feel the same way to Sanctuary. Duty. Responsibility to do right by your people."
Something warm like radiation or sunshine bloomed in Hancock's chest, and his eyebrows arched up affectionately as he stared down at the thoughtful woman before him. "Glad to hear you're one of the people that gets it. What it's like to lead and take care of your people."
She smiled, and it might have just been the dying sunset, but she looked flushed with a warm pink color across her cheeks. "You too," she said with a murmur, looking up at the mayor from beneath her eyelashes, her smile soft and warm and genuine. Nora inhaled and exhaled softly, like she was steeling herself for what she was about to say, and while the words came out like ash floating absently in the air, they hit Hancock's chest like a nuclear bomb.
"I know we haven't known each other for very long, Hancock. But I'm really glad to be traveling with as good a man as you."
God did Hancock's heart just skip a couple of beats? Wasn't that a Pre-War metaphor for something?
Hancock released the gasp of breath in his lungs, and stared at her with a mix of awe and confusion. A memory flashed in his mind, and he couldn't help but chuckle at what she said brought to his thoughts. "Even after stabbing someone upon our first encounter?"
Nora snorted at that, "Well, they can't all be winners," and shoved him light-heartedly with her shoulder. Her eyes seemed to turn into something soft and vulnerable. "But really, Hancock. I'm serious." Hancock's limbs stiffened, unsure if was capable of moving. "I'm glad I decided to do some wandering with you."
His heart was definitely pounding much too hard now; there was no possible way she wouldn't be able to hear it. Why did her genuine words have to strike something so deeply within him?
She seemed to take his silence as a mutual agreement to what she said, and Nora let out a contented sigh. "Well, better get dinner ready, huh?"
With a smooth turn, Nora spun on her heel and went to organize and ready their supplies for the night, and as she went, Hancock watched, and hesitated.
The way she walked, the sound of her voice, how her hair seemed to float above her shoulders when she moved, the lovely musical lilt of her voice, the curve of her hips and the wonderful combination of smooth and scarred skin from her Pre-War days.
All of it. All of her. Inside and out.
Hancock's breath caught as realization fell on him like he was falling backward, followed by a swath of impure thoughts surrounding the Vault Dweller. He choked on the ball of air stuck in his throat.
Oh boy.
Yeah, he was caught in pretty deep.
(**)
aw man i love my raisin husband. love these two
thanks for reading! :) please remember to leave a comment with your thoughts; comments are the bread of life to writers, as you all know. dont leave me to starve! :p
