33. Uneasiness: Nora's back

They heard about a surge of radiation from Diamond City Radio. It came from Sanctuary according to Travis. Preston, Deacon, and Hancock all raced from the Castle back to the small hamlet neighborhood in the north. Any beast, raider, or gunner they met on their journey was killed swiftly in near silence. All three men needed to see for themselves if the rumors were true. Any time Deacon or Preston tried to stop or rest, Hancock would keep running North. The other men would then look at each other and with sweat on their brows follow the ghoul mayor. Hancock's heart pounded in beat with his feet pounding on the pre-war roads. The three travelled together as an unspoken agreement, and made it to Sanctuary by nightfall.

Before anyone could cross the bridge to Sanctuary, Preston threw his arms out and clotheslined Deacon and Hancock.

"What if it's another synth?" He asked.

It was the first time they'd considered that in their journey. Most of the Synth Nora's had been scattered around to the outermost settlements, trying desperately to get people to listen to them. But there was always something else wrong with them. Their uniforms too clean, their pip-boys worked too well, they were hesitant around everyone. Hancock's gut hadn't lead them astray yet, and something in Hancock's gut told him this was it. He told Preston as much and the other man held onto Deacon as he motioned for Hancock to take the lead.

He stepped onto the decayed bridge and with heavy feet and shaking nerves, he crossed halfway.

Nora stood on the other side of the bridge. Staring at him. Like she was expecting him.

Hancock's heart started beating erratically. If he could sweat, he would he been drenched. His blood, however, ran cold, and he flexed his hands at his side, unsure of what to do with them.

Nora's beautiful long curls had been chopped off. She looked immaculately clean, and was wearing an Institute uniform. She was absolutely glowing, not in an irradiated way, but in a clean, hopeful way. She continued to just stare at him. Not moving.

Hancock's throat was tight, but he managed to call out, "You alright, sunshine?"

Finally Nora's calm composure broke, her face twisted up as she held back tears. "John," she choked out. She began to run towards him and Hancock's body moved on its own, running to meet her. He opened his arms and immediately wrapped them around Nora once her body slammed into his.

This was Nora.

His Nora.

His sunshine.

She was back.

Hancock buried one hand in her hair and gripped her tightly with the other, pressing her to him as if afraid of losing her yet again. Nora's body shook with sobs and Hancock could feel she had lost weight. When she had jumped into his arms her legs had wrapped around his waist and her arms were around his shoulders, holding him in a vice grip. Hancock turned his head, not caring that his hat was knocked askew, and kissed her cheek several times. He didn't care that her tears got his lips wet, he was thanking any God out there that she was home with him.

Hancock carried her to the privacy of her home so he could listen to her story. He wanted to beat the living snot out of Shaun. He didn't care that he was Nora's son, what kind of bastard did that to their own mother? What kind of monster did something like that to Nora? He saw red as hopelessness took over Nora's aged features. He wanted to pull her to his chest and protect her from every horrible thing that Commonwealth had thrown at her.

That night was the longest, but most restful night the two had had in a long time.

The rest of the Commonwealth trusted that Hancock knew the real Nora from fake ones. After all, he'd been killing off every fake one that popped up. However, he could feel eyes on him and Nora every time they left her house.

Granted, Nora didn't leave her house often nowadays, but when she did the people made it clear they were hesitant around her. Even Preston was hesitant to send Nora outside of Sanctuary.

"They're scared of me." Nora said one evening. She was sitting in her armchair, looking out the window at the people of Sanctuary mingling around the common house.

"What?" Hancock raised his head, he had been lying on the bed, Dogmeat's head on his stomach, scratching the pooch behind his ears. "No," Hancock lied, "They just...want you to feel comfortable again. You were underground for what, two, three months—"

Nora laughed softly and shook her head, "I see how they look at me." She didn't look at him. "Like they think I'm one of those synths."

"Well," Hancock stood up, Dogmeat got off the bed and trotted out of the room. "I know it's you." He wrapped his arms around her shoulders. She rested her head back on his stomach, one hand coming up to hold his arms around her. "The real you." He added as he kneeled down to buried his face in her neck.

He smiled when he felt her smile and laugh. "What makes you so sure it's me?" She asked quietly.

"Well for starters, your hair." He raised one hand and played with one of the short curls. Her hair was so short now he could hardly run his fingers through it. "Deacon said you were trying to break out. Figured you were doing whatever you could to please those assholes, which means 'cleaning up'," Nora laughed and nodded. "Second. You cried when you saw me. Not an unusual reaction to seeing someone like me," Nora turned enough to elbow him lightly. Hancock laughed. He grabbed Nora's thigh and turned her to face him kneeling before her. "Third. Your pip-boy." He nodded to the giant device on her arm. "I don't care how smart those bastards are, they could never get the look of an old fashioned pip-boy down."

Nora hummed, seemingly satisfied with his answer. "Well, I can tell you for certain that I'm not a synth."

"That's what they all say." Hancock teased.

"Right," Nora nodded, "But, I can tell you things that only you and I know."

"Like what?" Hancock raised a brow.

Nora leaned down to whisper in his ear, and Hancock made sure everyone knew this was his Nora.

Their Nora.

General of the Minutemen.