Hey friends! It's been so long since I posted anything but the itch is back and so am I, apparently. I was digging around my old documents and found this little gem already finished up in response to the following prompt; feel free to let me know what you think! It's been months and months since I wrote this so to be totally, sadly honest, I don't remember where the prompt is from and I'm so sorry! to whoever came up with this idea. But you inspired me, and here's your response nearly a year later. Hope you all enjoy it!
So what if F!SS never tells her companion (Hancock, Danse, or MacCready preferably) who/what she is looking for or her true origins. Her companion starts slowly putting things together...maybe they see her strech marks and think they are just a scratch scar, or they notice the look in her eyes when she sees/holds a child/baby, or maybe they hear her mention a "Nate" or "Shaun" in her sleep. Eventually it clicks and without thinking they say aloud "you had a baby". Her reaction, his reaction, their developing feelings for each other...all that jazz to follow. Make it as angsty or fluffy(or both) as you want, I'll be psyched for either!
In the end, it's the little things that give her away. Devil's in the details, as they say. She's not one to share and he's not one to push, but spend enough time with anyone and you'll see more than they probably want you to.
Hancock has been travelling with her for some time now; he finds that they are more similar than he might've originally thought, and though the flirting seems casual to her he is starting to feel a slightly stronger pull to her that he has never truly felt for anyone.
He's never been the most observant person, but he does pride himself on noticing the small details. Sometimes, they're the only things keeping you alive. This combined with his growing attraction to her lead him to notice several things through their time together.
At first it's small things; he catches a glimpse once, then twice, of a small string of rope around her neck holding two rings. He doesn't ask; most stories like that have sad endings in this world, and he knows that if it is something she wants to talk about, she'll talk about it.
After some time with her and enough times spent keeping watch while she sleeps, he gets another glimpse of whatever it is that she is hiding. Two names, depending on the nightmare she's having that night. Hancock is now more than familiar with the way she tosses and turns in her sleep; when there is no danger he feels no guilt in watching her sleep.
The violent nightmares – the ones that break her into a cold sweat and leave her thrashing – are the ones that bring out Nate, whoever he is. Hancock always wakes her from these; he is no stranger to nightmares, and she does the same for him when his past catches up to him too. He never mentions Nate to her; if she wanted him to know, he would know.
The other nightmares – the ones that leave her sobbing, tossing and turning through the night – bring out Shaun, and though Hancock doesn't know who either of these people are, he has a strong suspicion that they have something to do with the rings she keeps so close.
He is falling for her, and he wonders if she knows.
A day comes when she is injured, badly. He helps her to bandage the wound; it's on her ribcage, and she has to pull her shirt up just enough so that he can help her to apply the bandages and sew up a couple of stitches. He doesn't ask – and as always she doesn't explain – the marks across her stomach. They're faint and thin; slivers of white that he almost wouldn't notice. He assumes they're from a battle that was hard-won, and as he always does, he knows that she will tell him when she is ready.
These little things; these glimpses of her that she does not share with anyone, are what give her away. It all clicks together for him one day, when they are travelling and they stumble on – of all things – a young ghoul child who's been locked in a fridge for who even knows how long.
The child is scared, of course, and when he stumbles out of the fridge only to be greeted by a woman in a cowboy-ish hat and what the poor kid calls a zombie she comforts him and holds him in her arms while he cries, asking her where his parents are and suddenly panicking about why his hands look like they do.
She talks to him, her voice soothing and a concern in her eyes that Hancock rarely sees. She explains it all to him in a way that makes things a little less scary, and by the end of it the boy is eyeing Hancock with less suspicion and more curiosity.
When she puts him down so carefully and turns to Hancock to discuss what they should do there is something in her face that is so longing and so deep that he doesn't even catch himself before he speaks.
"You had a kid."
She freezes, and the boy turns around to face them, wondering why they are taking so long because home is so close and he just wants to see his parents.
"Have," she says, and it is so quiet that Hancock almost asks her to repeat herself when she says it again, loud enough for him to hear and her voice is a mix of so many things that he knows now why she is always fighting, always pushing forward on these missions that seem so menial and sometimes just so horribly inconvenient. "I have a child, yes."
And she tells him, but only the briefest of explanations.
She tells him that she was a Vault Dweller, but it was not what they ever could have imagined it would be. She tells him who Nate is, and he finally understands why her dreams are so violent for her and before she can tell him all of it some man is approaching them asking her how much she wants for the boy.
There is a moment when Hancock is worried she'll forget that Billy is with them still, and he hopes she waits to blow the man's brains out of his head because her rifle is at his temple before anyone has a chance to move. Hancock can't help but breathe a sigh of relief when the rifle is lowered and she sends the man away with a stern promise should she see him again.
After that, they don't talk. She guards Billy so closely you would think he is her own child, and finally Hancock understands so much more about her.
The jealousy he wasn't willing to admit even to himself at the rings and the names she would cry for in her sleep dissolve so rapidly that he is left with a hole that he can only fill with guilt at being so self-centered. No one with a love story in this world gets a happy ending, it seems, and she is no exception.
They get Billy home and his parents are actually there, despite all of Hancock's misgivings. She leaves them safe and together and she tells the man that they are under her protection; he knows this is not a battle worth fighting and leaves them all in peace, and Hancock finally has his moment with her hours later when they set up a place to rest for the night.
He doesn't prod her – he never does – and she tells him all of it.
She tells him about life before the bombs fell, and she tells him about the town she is rebuilding so tenaciously. She tells him about the vault, and the man who killed her husband and stole her child.
Eventually, though he can see the struggle clearly on her face, she tells him about them both. She tells him about Nate, who fought in the war. She tells him how they met, and laughs sadly when she tells him about their time together. She tells him about Shaun; the color of his eyes, the way he'd laugh at the mobile that spun above his crib.
Her shoulders slump less with each passing hour that they talk, though, and Hancock starts to see a lightness to her that he hasn't seen (if at all) in a long time.
He thinks she is so, so beautiful.
But now is not the time to tell her; she still holds so much grief inside of her over what she's lost. He will do what he's always done for her – he will be there when she needs him and he will listen when she's ready to talk. He will fight with her and watch her back and she will do the same for him.
And one day, when she is ready and when he is too, he will tell her how much he loves her.
