Rose and Hancock sat up against a shack near the edge of Sanctuary Hills, watching as the sun dipped below the horizon. They'd spent the day tearing down one of the last ruined houses to make more space for the growing market, making among the tougher days they'd had since coming to Sanctuary just two weeks before, and were both exhausted. MacCready had already headed back to the Red Rocket for the evening.

"I'm sorry this probably wasn't what you had in mind when you decided to travel with me," Rose told him as they finished off the last of some Cram.

Hancock shrugged as he lit a cigarette. "We're doing good work for people. Making the Commonwealth a little safer. Ain't nothing wrong with that. Besides, I don't mind taking a break from the Wasteland."

Rose smirked and plucked the cigarette from his fingers. "Fair enough."

She took a drag before handing it back to him and began rummaging through her pack. He stared at her while her eyebrows creased and her lips became even more downturned as she searched. He'd seen so much of that same hardened determination across her face since he met her, and sometimes it was scarier than anything that roamed the Commonwealth. But then, there were times...

Times like this.

A smile lit up her face as she pulled the bottle of wine they'd found in a formerly fancy neighborhood a few days before. He loved moments like this when her face became softer. Hancock wondered if this is what she was always like before the war. Of course he admired her strength, her viciousness in a fight, the way she'd tear through this wasteland for someone she loves, but he wished she never had to be that way. Rose reached across him and pulled his bayonet from his belt before attacking the wine cork with it.

"I thought you had a corkscrew," Hancock said, watching her struggle.

"I did," she huffed, wriggling the knife tip between the cork and the mouth of the bottle, "but I lost it."

"Lost it?"

She nodded, tongue between her teeth. Finally she popped the cork from the bottle and flicked it away unceremoniously.

"It's in the neck of that raider who jumped on top of you yesterday." She took a swig of the wine. He let out a burst of laughter and she shot him a confused look.

"Can't believe you wasted your corkscrew like that."

Rose shrugged and nudged him gently. "I'd miss having you around to annoy me."

"I'm really growing on you, huh?"

"Like a parasite," she said with a wink. Rose knocked back a bit more wine before she perked up, remembering something. She handed Hancock her bottle and he took a sip as she dove back into her pack. He held up the bottle, impressed, and examined the label as she searched.

"Here we go. For you." Rose pulled out a large metal tin and held it out to him. They swapped, bottle for tin, and he snapped open the lid.

"Shit, Rose. Where'd you find all this?"

It was full to the brim with a rainbow of Mentats. Hancock wasn't sure he'd ever seen this many at once.

She shrugged, the lip of the bottle hanging in her fingertips between her knees. "I always keep an eye out and I finally managed to fill it up. They're your favorite, right?"

He nodded, scooping up a few tablets and tossing them back. "This is..." he began, shaking his head in disbelief, "well... thanks. Almost as good as the book."

Rose said nothing, but gave him a warm smile that made his stomach flutter.

"Do you want one?"

He held the tin out to her. She eyed it, unsure. She hadn't had any Mentats since before she found out she was pregnant with Shaun, so it'd been a while. Plus two hundred years, she thought, running a hand through her curls. And then there was the Psycho thing, which had been a little scary.

"I don't know. It's been a long time."

He shrugged. "All the more reason, if you ask me. But I won't complain if you say no. More for me."

Rose bit her lip and sighed. She'd been through hell and back since she'd come out of the vault. Why not? Besides, Mentats weren't anything like Psycho, either. She reached over and chose one, threw her head back as it dissolved on her tongue, and washed it down with a swig of wine. They sat in silence, and Hancock watched her as the time passed. Her eyes grew wider as her mind and the world around her grew sharper and brighter. She hummed happily, looking around wistfully, and Hancock chuckled.

"I used to take these when I painted abstract stuff. Especially while I was still in college. Wasn't my most popular work, but it was always my favorite. I could see everything I was thinking in those pieces."

Her voice was airy and light, like every word was floating off of her tongue.

"Yeah?" Hancock asked, surprised. She hardly ever talked about her life before the war.

She nodded, tapping out a song on the wine bottle. "Mmhmm. There was one woman who liked it, though. Some art critic for a newspaper. She raved about it so much that I got commissioned to paint for this big art junkie in DC like a week before the bombs fell." She paused. "Didn't even get to start it."

Her gaze fell to the ground as she mentioned the bombs. Hancock didn't notice.

"You're really something else, Rose, you know that?"

Rose jerked her head up and stared at him, mouth slightly agape and face flushed. Her dilated pupils from the chems made her eyes look shockingly wide behind her glasses.

"Uh... sorry," he said quickly, her expression making him nervous. Fuck.

"No, no," she stuttered, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose with the back of her hand. "You... that caught me off guard. Thank you."

She rubbed the back of her neck, and... giggled.

Rose clapped a hand over her mouth, internally screaming at herself.

Did you just giggle?

She tipped up the wine and downed half of its remains before glancing back over at Hancock, who was looking at her with an expression of what could only be pure joy.

"What?" She tried to snap, and he practically fell over laughing.

They stayed there long after the sky turned dark. It didn't take long for Rose to finish the bottle of wine, and then crack open a second one. They'd laughed and joked with each other for awhile, but Hancock couldn't help but notice she grew quieter as the bottles grew emptier. Even in darkness, he could see sadness gradually overtake her glazed eyes.

"I keep waiting for myself to wake up and be used to this," she said, disrupting the silence that had developed.

Hancock said nothing, the glow of the end of his third cigarette illuminating his ruined face.

"Almost four months and I still wake up forgetting where I am. It's a fucking joke."

Her voice caught. Rose wasn't sure why she was rambling like this. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was the Mentats, maybe it was the busted combination of both. She could feel her frustrations boiling in her chest, threatening to spill out of her and onto a man who didn't deserve to drown in her tragedy. After telling him what happened with Shaun and Nate that first time, she never spoke to Hancock about it again.

Rose sighed and pressed her fingers to her temple. "I'm sorry," she muttered, drinking the last of the wine. She chucked the bottle away and it shattered on the rocks near the river.

"For what?"

She just shrugged. He blew a ring of smoke.

"You don't have to be such a hardass all the time. As useful and terrifying as your unwavering steel is sometimes, you can be a little more vulnerable too. Maybe don't let your tears fall in the middle of a camp of Greenskins, but here with me? You got nothing to worry about."

Rose allowed for a ghost of a smile.

"Thanks."

Rose leaned into him, her head resting between his neck and shoulder. Hancock slid his arm around her waist and pulled her close.

"I'm sorry I'm such a mess. And that you and MacCready deal with it."

Her voice was quieter now, and more sad than angry.

"Don't apologize, Rose. I get it. Probably always will."

"That doesn't make it okay."

"Rose-"

"Hancock, just-"

"It's John."

She blinked. "What?'

"My name," he said, his voice dropping. "That's my real name. John."

"Oh."

He swallowed, not entirely sure why he just told her that. It had just felt right. "You don't have to call me that. I just wanted you to know."

Rose was quiet for a moment, her hands wringing together in her lap.

"I-" she started, but then sat up abruptly. Hancock startled.

"Will you help me up?"

"You okay?" Hancock stood, slightly confused, but gripped her arm and lifted her gently.

"I... yeah." Her footing was clearly unsteady so he didn't let go. She straightened herself up and gripped his jacket. The look in her eyes was desperate. "I need to show you something."

"You sure about that? Maybe you should lie down," he said, worried. He'd never seen her like this before.

"Please," she begged, not relinquishing her hold on his coat.

Hancock pursed his lips, but nodded. "Alright. What?"

Her eyes searched his for a moment, trying to find sincerity. She stepped back from him and gestured up the street before walking hurriedly in that direction. He followed close behind her, still concerned. The rest of the settlement appeared to be empty, all its residents hopefully holed up for the night. Hancock knew she wouldn't want her people to see her like this. She stopped in front of one of the better-preserved houses in Sanctuary Hills, one -he realized- she'd made a point of steering the settlers away from. He paused at her side.

Rose glanced over at Hancock, the look of worry and confusion on his face making her drug-addled heart ache. This man -who'd killed someone in front of her very eyes the first time they met- cared so much about her. She looked back at the house and sighed.

"This... this was my home. Before the war."

It hit Hancock like a ton of bricks. She'd told him about living in Sanctuary Hills on one of the first nights they spent together. How could he have forgotten?

She wasn't really sure what made her want to tell him so desperately. No one else knew, besides Codsworth. The ache that cut through her every time she visited Sanctuary Hills was something she kept to herself. She'd only been inside once since emerging from Vault 111, and barely made it past the threshold before stumbling back out.

Rose climbed the stone steps and forced open the grimy orange door, but Hancock grabbed her arm from behind before she could step inside.

"You sure you wanna go in there?"

She nodded, not turning to look at him. He hesitated, but let her go before following her into the house. Hancock kept close to the doorway, watching as she wandered around the kitchen.

Rose ran her fingers over the dirty countertops, remembering how she gushed to Nate about how clean they were after they'd gotten Codsworth. He'd gotten the Mr. Handy as a surprise for Rose so she had time to take care of Shaun and keep up with her painting. She'd never forget how his face glowed when he brought in the box for her.

Rose paused at the fridge, spotting a torn, yellowed sheet of notebook paper still stuck to its grimy surface. She touched the paper gently, almost as if she expected it to crumble under her touch.

"Went to the store. Be back soon. Love you baby."

Nate must've scratched out the note because he'd gone out early the day the bombs fell to buy -she'd found out with delight later that morning- a pack of Nuka-Cola Quantum. It had just been released to the public the day the bombs fell, and he'd gone out as soon as the grocery opened because he knew how excited Rose was to have some. They'd visited Nuka-World a month or so before that day and had gotten to try an exclusive batch, and she'd absolutely loved it.

Their world fell apart before they got to share another one together.

Rose slid the note out from under the magnet that pinned it to the fridge and folded it up to slip in her pocket.

"I hate seeing the house like this," she whispered. "But I haven't found the strength to fix it yet."

Hancock finally moved to stand next to her. She jumped slightly when he rested his hand near the small of her back.

"It hasn't been all that long, Rose. Give yourself some time," he murmured. She just gave Hancock another half-hearted smile. Her mind was swimming now, memories from her distant but not-so-distant past bubbling up more vividly than usual.

Her hand groped at the air briefly before she found Hancock's, intertwining her fingers tightly with his. His hand was limp briefly, but then he gave her hand a squeeze.

"Do you want to leave?" He now desperately just wanted to get her to sleep, and really wished he hadn't given her those Mentats with her wine. He wished MacCready was there, too.

Rose shook her head and pulled him towards the hallway. She paused at its end, staring into the room to their left. A large, ruined bed sat at its center. She reached out, steadying herself on the doorframe, gripping it hard. Hancock heard it crack under the pressure.

"That morning, we were getting ready for a military ball. Nate, he..."

She coughed, and didn't finish her sentence. Nate was supposed to speak at the Veteran's Hall that night. He'd just finished designing a new, sleek set of power armor that he worked on for over a year. Rose had drawn almost all the blueprints for it, even though Nate was well enough then to do it himself. It was going to be one of his most important presentations, and he'd always said she brought everything to life on paper in ways he couldn't.

She quickly turned the adjacent room and Hancock felt her shaking. He peered inside, wincing at the sight of a busted-up crib that glowed in the faint light of her Pip-Boy.

Rose dropped his hand and walked-almost as if in a trance-to the center of the room, and rested her hands on the end of the crib. She reached up and tapped it's broken mobile, the little spaceships wobbling as it gave a weak turn.

"We named him after Nate's father," she whispered, running her thumbs across the worn blue paint.

Hancock watched her from the doorway until something shining in a small pile of rubble near his feet caught his eye. He bent down and dug out a cracked picture frame.

She spoke with a wet chuckle. "He had the loudest cry. We were lucky he didn't cry much."

He stared down at the photo. Rose wore a soft lavender dress, and her curly hair was shorter than it was now but just as wild. Her face was clear of all but one scar: the little moon-shaped one on her chin. She cradled a small, chubby baby in her arms, who very clearly inherited her curls. Beside her stood who he assumed to be Nate. He'd unknowingly seen his face before, back in one of the portraits back in the Red Rocket. Much to Hancock's surprise, the man reminded him of himself, pre-ghoulification. His long blonde hair was pulled back and he had bright blue eyes. They all looked so happy. He'd never seen a grin on Rose like it before.

He slipped the picture into his coat pocket. This could either be the best time or the worst time to give it to her, so he decided against it. Instead, he joined her beside the crib.

"Why did this happen to me?" Rose demanded of no one in particular. Tears spilled down her cheeks, cutting lines through the dirt and grime that coated her face. All the hurt she'd managed to keep bottled up over the past few months, all the pain that hadn't been stated by beating Kellogg to a pulp, spilled over and hit her in the gut all at once. Everything she had, everything she loved, was all ripped away from her. She watched her husband die, had their child stolen from her, and emerged into a world that wasn't even her own anymore. And she'd been so close, so close to finding him, only to find out he was even farther away than she'd thought.

"We should never have gone to that fucking vault. We should've stayed here, and died together."

"What?" Hancock finally said as gently as he could, not quite catching what she said.

Rage washed over Rose's features. She shoved the crib hard, sending it flying into the wall. It splintered on impact.

"We should've died! I should be dead!"

She whipped around to face Hancock. Her fist came down hard on the changing table that sat near where the crib had been. The old wood practically disintegrated from the blow. "But I'm here. Alone. Lost in some fucking hellscape, trying to rescue my son from the biggest goddamn monster in the Commonwealth!"

Her foot connected with the wall, leaving a large dent in the cracked panels. "What did I do to deserve this? Why the fuck am I still here?"

She stood there, chest heaving and fists clenched, wide eyes begging him-begging anyone-for an answer. Fury crumbled to anguish before she sunk to the ground, hunching over as sobs wracked her body.

Hancock knelt beside her and pulled her into him, leaving one arm wrapped around her shoulders. She didn't resist. He stroked her hair with his free hand as she let out muffled cries into his chest.

He was quiet for a while, deciding to let her wear herself out.

"Rose," he began after she'd calmed down some, "I... I can't really imagine what you're going through. Won't pretend like I can. But you're not alone. You're always gonna have me to follow you around the wasteland. MacCready too."

Her arms looped around his neck and she shifted, her head resting in the crook of his neck again. Her breath was warm on the exposed skin above the collar of his jacket, but she said nothing. Hancock adjusted, wrapping his own arms around her more tightly.

"I always run away, you know that? Always on the run from my problems, so I never stick around anywhere. Never have. But I don't want to run, Rose. You make me feel like I don't need to anymore. So I promise, no matter how alone you feel, you never will be."

His voice had dropped to a whisper. He felt her fingers stroking gently on the back of his neck.

"I'm s-"

"Rose, please stop apologizing. You have nothing to be sorry for." His voice was gentle but firm, firm enough that she didn't try to argue back.

They sat there for awhile longer in silence, until Hancock managed to get Rose to stand. They made a slow journey back to the Red Rocket, and Hancock was surprised to find MacCready scribbling away at Rose's desk by the light of a candle.

His eyebrows creased and he stood when he noticed them come in, surprised to see Rose barely standing on her own. "Is everything okay?"

Hancock gave a quick shake of his head and gestured for MacCready to come help him. The two men helped Rose out of her boots and overalls before getting her into bed. She immediately curled up into the fetal position and began to cry again when she hit the mattress. MacCready looked from her to Hancock, his face distraught.

"What happened?"

"Another time," Hancock whispered. "Let's just get through tonight."

In silent agreement, the two laid down on the mattress on either side of Rose. Her sobbing softened as she felt them around her, MacCready taking her hands and Hancock laying an arm over her waist. They held her until she calmed down, drifting into a dreamless sleep. Hancock and MacCready stayed even after she'd fallen asleep, enjoying the feeling of all being curled together and both dozed off shortly after her.