A/N: Each chapter title are song themes! Songs for this chapter are: "Fever" by Peggy Lee, and "Beautiful Stranger" by Halsey.

Beautiful stranger,

Here you are in my arms and I know
That beautiful strangers
Only come along to do me wrong—
And I hope, beautiful stranger,
Here you are in my arms;
But I think it's finally
Finally, finally, finally, finally safe...
For me to fall.

"Goodneighbor, huh? There are some unsavory characters there."

"Can't be any worse than the paranoid idiots back in Diamond City, Nick."

Nick Valentine grunted quietly at his traveling companion and gave a noncommittal shrug, although something resembling a smile crossed his slate gray features. "Before we go in there, I'll warn you that the mayor is a bit —"

"I can handle whatever is thrown at me," Evelyn Pressley replied confidently, giving the detective behind her a sly grin. They'd known each other for a month now; when would he learn that she wasn't afraid of anything?

Evelyn was grateful to Nick, though — he'd been exactly the help she'd been searching for ever since leaving that damned Vault. She was still searching for Shaun and thanks to Nick, she had an idea of where to start: Conrad Kellogg. She and Nick searched the merc's place in Diamond City and found no leads; only some spare belongings he'd left behind. Nick had the bright idea to get Dogmeat's nose on the case; maybe he could sniff out Kellogg's scent, somehow. They had a plan — now they just needed the funds. Kellogg was a talented mercenary and it would take some heavy weapons to take him down. Unfortunately, Evelyn's best weapon was a sawed-off combat shotgun, and while it could pack a punch, she wasn't sure if it would be enough to take Kellogg and his employees down. So to get the caps needed to execute her plan… she needed to find some work.

Goodneighbor just happened to be nearby.

Evelyn hadn't even heard of Goodneighbor before; but apparently Nick was apprehensive of the place. Evelyn had never been a stranger to danger or chaos, so a rough neighborhood didn't faze her at all. Before the war, before shit hit the fan, she was a military nurse. She'd served for 15 years before settling down with Nate and having Shaun. Being on the front lines gave the woman nerves of steel and a level head, and they'd served her well in this mess of a wasteland. Goodneighbor would be no exception.

Approaching a large fence in the middle of Boston, she saw the steady neon sign: 'GOODNEIGHBOR.' Yelling echoed from somewhere inside the town.

"Seems inviting enough," Evelyn teased her partner before making her way inside.

Evelyn was certain from Nick's attempts to warn her that she'd be getting into a fight here.

What she didn't expect was that it would be as soon as she walked in the door.

"Unsavory was right," she muttered under her breath as a bald man wearing road leathers stopped them. With a forced casualness, he lit up a cigarette and his beady eyes focused on Nick. "Well well, well," he taunted, "it's the detective. Tracking down another wayward husband to his mistress?"

Nick was never one to miss a chance for a harsh comeback, Evelyn noted appreciatively as he stared at the stranger with unfeeling golden eyes and retorted, "why? Someone stand you up?"

The bald man sneered. "You tryin' that, uh… whad'ya call it? Evasive language on me?" His gaze turned on Evelyn now and he looked her up and down; but his eyes were analytical, as if he was sizing her up for a fight. "And who are you? Valentine's new dick-in-training?"

"In an hour, then?"

"Yeah, when it gets dark. I think it'll have more of an effect that way. You know I like to get the people all riled up."

Fahrenheit's lips curled into a half-grin. "I'll start letting folks know, then. Did you —"

John Hancock put a hand up to silence the ginger-haired warrior when a cacophony of voices reached his ears. He was riding a Mentats high at the moment and the argument was harshing his mellow… who in the goddamn hell thought it was okay to start a fight right at the town entrance?

Coal-black eyes shifted over to see Finn — why was he not surprised — bullying two people; one of them was a very familiar face. Nick Valentine. He hadn't shown up here in a long time. Hancock was starting to wonder if he was dead; but then again, he doubted anyone could kill that clever son of a bitch. The other person, however... Hancock realized as he squinted at her that he had no idea who she was.

But goddamn was she gorgeous. She was muscled, with bronze skin and pitch-black hair that curled just under her chin; a scar came down the left side of her face, starting from her forehead and ending all the way down her cheek. Bright gray eyes, almost a luminescent silver in color, stared at Finn coolly as he harassed her, while impossibly red lips curled into a charming smile. She was everything he normally didn't pursue; the exact opposite of what Hancock would consider his 'type.' But he found that he couldn't tear his eyes away.

What was her story? Who the hell was she? And why was she here?

"And who are you? Valentine's new dick-in-training?" Finn asked.

"I'm going to be shoving my foot in your ass if you don't stop with the attitude," the woman responded kindly, that charming smile never wavering.

"Don't be like that," Finn chided, taking a drag of his cigarette. "You just got the looks of someone who's lookin' for a little… insurance."

Hancock frowned. He didn't want to get involved in a meaningless argument (besides, this woman seemed like she could take care of herself, and Nick always had the right comeback for pushy idiots like Finn), but if he was going to pull this bullshit again…

The woman quirked a brow. "Insurance, huh? Would this insurance, say, keep assholes like yourself away from me?"

Finn grunted. "I'm gonna make this simple, lady. You hand over everything you got in them pockets, or "accidents" start happenin' to ya."

"Accidents?" The woman furrowed her brows, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. "What do you mean, accidents?"

Even Finn was getting tired of her antics. Hancock, having known him for years, guessed that Finn was pretty hard up on cash to be desperate enough to keep this up. Being the type to prefer easy money, he'd given up on difficult newcomers before. Finn was desperate. But Hancock didn't like where this was headed; Goodneighbor was of the people, for the people, whether they were newcomers or not, and Finn was fucking everything up.

Finn sighed, putting out his cigarette after taking another drag. "Hand over your shit… or I'm gonna beat your ass to a bloody fuckin' pulp."

Nick's eyes hardened and he reached for a weapon in his trench coat. The woman's demeanor changed completely and immediately. Pulling a hunting knife from a pocket at her side, she put her fists up immediately, her gaze cold. "I'd like to see you try."

Hancock had had enough. "Woah, woah, woah; time out," he said, dismissing himself from Fahrenheit and sauntering over to the scene. His gait and expression were casual, even nonchalant, but anyone who knew the mayor at all could see the ice in his black eyes. "Nick Valentine here makes a rare visit to town… and you're hassling his friend here with that extortion crap?"

Finn shifted uneasily. Newcomers, in his mind, were fair game — but he knew messing with Hancock was a bad idea. Hancock's gaze moved to the synth detective and his expression lightened. "Good to see ya again, Nick."

Nick's mouth remained in a tight line, but recognition lit up his golden eyes. "Hancock."

The ghoul's attention returned to the culprit at-hand. Finn was flustered and thinking of a comeback, he could see it in the drifter's face. Finally, he mustered, "what do you care? He ain't one o' us."

Hancock sighed. "Finn, Finn, Finn."

While Evelyn was annoyed, she couldn't exactly be surprised at the situation. She had been warned about this very thing minutes ago and she'd decided to come in anyways. Perhaps she should listen to Nick more often —

— but then again, she could easily handle herself against this dirt-bag. When it came to long-distance combat, Evelyn didn't measure up, but close-quarters? She was a firecracker, ready to explode. When his persuasion turned into a downright threat, Evelyn's eyes narrowed angrily; seeing his hand itching for his own weapon, she made a quick decision and pulled out her knife. Enough was enough. She didn't care if she got a few scratches along the way — she was taking him down.

But it appeared she wouldn't have to fight. When a figure of medium height interrupted their conversation, Evelyn squinted into the darkness of the nearby alley way and lowered her fists — but held her knife tightly just in case. When the owner of the raspy, authoritative voice stepped into the light, her eyes widened slightly.

He was a ghoul.

Evelyn had seen one or two ghouls before, but her interactions with them had been limited to ferals. This one seemed… special, for lack of a better word. Swagger emanated from every pore as he joined the group, his footsteps slow and sure and full of intent. Underneath a patriot's hat was a face full of scarred up skin, complete with a crooked smile and intense eyes, inky black in color all the way to the sclera. This man was dressed in a patriot's uniform too; if she didn't know any better, she'd think he was a character straight out of an American history book.

And with him being a ghoul, he was probably old enough to be a living piece of American history.

Her breath caught. She didn't know what to think, at first, and that realization alone caught her off guard. Evelyn was quick to form opinions, being very perceptive and observant; but with this ghoul… she wasn't sure what to think. The ice in his eyes didn't match the casual smile on his scarred lips. This man seemed to know Nick as they exchanged words; a cursory glance in the synth's direction told Evelyn that he and the ghoul had a respect for one another but their friendship probably didn't extend far beyond professional courtesy.

The thug was getting nervous. "What do you care? He ain't one o' us."

The ghoul sighed, shaking his head as if scolding a child. "Finn, Finn, Finn." A step closer had Finn stepping back, looking like a predator that had suddenly become the prey. The raspy voice of the ghoul broke the silence once again. "No love for your mayor? I said… let 'em go."

Evelyn's eyes narrowed suspiciously. So this was the mayor Nick was trying to warn her about… she could see why, now. On the outside, Hancock, as Nick had called him, was cool as a cucumber; but danger radiated from his every pore. He wasn't someone to trifle with.

Finn was an unlucky man.

Evelyn winced at Finn's next words, spoken with desperation and anger: "y-you're soft, Hancock — you keep letting' outsiders walk all over us, and one day there's gonna be a new mayor."

So Finn was as dumb as he looked; either that, or he simply figured he had nothing left to lose.

Hancock's voice was nonchalant; playful, even. "Come on, man. This is me we're talking about."

It all happened in the blink of an eye; Hancock was grabbing Finn's shoulder under the pretense of friendship, all while pulling a switchblade from his pants pocket and plunging the weapon deep into the drifter's gut repeatedly. One, two, three; Finn's body fell to the ground to finish bleeding out. "You're breakin' my heart, Finn," the mayor said with a raspy voice devoid of any regret as he crouched and wiped his blade on the thug's jacket.

When he rose to his feet, coal-colored hues turned their attention on Evelyn. "You alright, sister?"

Evelyn froze. There was something about the way he looked at her, something that made her mouth go dry. "Uh — yeah," she finally managed, clumsily stowing away her hunting knife. In her peripheral she could see Nick's eyes on her, confusion written all over his face. She couldn't blame him. Being at a loss for her words was not something Evelyn was known for.

Hancock's brow-bone shifted upwards. "Well, good. Don't let Finn's stupidity here taint your view of our little community. Goodneighbor's of the people, for the people, ya feel me? Everyone's welcome."

Of the people, for the people? How cheesy. She supposed it fit, though, considering the garish outfit he was wearing. This mayor seemed like the type to enjoy showing off, and from what she could tell, he certainly had the bite to back up his bark. "Of the people, for the people?" she arched a brow. "yeesh."

Hancock chuckled; a raspy sound that seemed like it should have been grating, but was actually pleasing to the ears. "I can tell I'm gonna like you already. Listen; just consider this town your home away from home…" the ghoul put away his switchblade, dusting off his patriot's coat and giving her a smug grin. "So long as you remember who's in charge."

Evelyn's lips quirked into a half-smile, her voice taking on a teasing tone. "That's you, right? Hancock?"

Hancock's grin widened. "That's Mayor Hancock, Sister."

It seemed like Goodneighbor's only bar was the best place to start when looking for caps. Nick was again wary of her decision but didn't think it was his place to correct her when this was her journey; he was just there to help. And while most of the synth's reasoning for joining Evelyn was to help her find her son, a small part of him, that insatiably curious part, wanted to see what would happen. How this story would end.

And furthermore, he wanted to see the Institute's demise. If anyone could single-handedly take down the scariest group in the Commonwealth, it was Evelyn Pressley; besides being leader of several rising groups and being in charge of multiple settlements, all within six months or so of coming off the ice, he saw a fire in that woman's eyes that he'd rarely ever seen in another. She would do anything, anything to get her son back, and she didn't have to say a word for Nick to know that. He could see it on her face.

So here he was, going down the steps into the Third Rail despite his better instincts telling him to leave Goodneighbor behind. A few hours prior, when that drifter met them at the door and tried to cause trouble, Nick knew their visit wouldn't be a peaceful one.

Nick settled himself into a comfortable corner to people watch and collect some data while Evelyn decided to work the room. First thing the detective figured out was that the only reason this place wasn't the absolute pits was because of the beautiful woman in the red dress who was singing on stage. Her velvety voice could lure a sailor to his death, Nick thought as his eyes lingered on her. Magnolia, her name was, if he remembered correctly. She was an interesting character, but not a good person to ask for work.

Evelyn made the right choice in heading to the bar. Nick watched as she spoke with the bartender, a rude little Mister Handy named Charlie. The arch of her brow and the sour look she quickly tried to hide brought a hint of a smile to the detective's lips; as far as reactions to Charlie went, that was about the norm.

About a half an hour in, Evelyn had had a few drinks and was getting bolder and more flirtatious with her requests; she certainly knew how to work a room, Nick had to admit. The quiet din of the bar was livened up by the entrance of several people; Hancock, his bodyguard Fahrenheit, and a couple other guards who had the rest of the night off. It was clear by their relaxed expressions they were here for pleasure, not business.

Nick's eyes went to Evelyn. He wondered how she'd react to this — he'd seen her change in demeanor upon meeting Hancock and wondered if his presence would affect her the same way. Not once since knowing the woman had Nick ever seen her stumble over her words like that. How a druggie ghoul like the mayor had such an effect on her, he had no idea… but he was curious.

Curious enough to sit back and watch without interfering.

While she'd received a few new admirers and even more new acquaintances, Evelyn had found very little in the way of obtaining work that didn't seem shady. She was beginning to get desperate (and perhaps a tad tipsy) when she noticed quite a few citizens and drifters alike cheered or happily greeted the people who'd come in the door; turning her body on her bar stool to see what the commotion was about, Evelyn's breath caught in her throat.

Among the people who'd come in was Hancock. The ghoul mayor who'd somehow managed to make her mouth go dry and her brain go static. He was an absolute stranger — and yet…

He broke off from the others, approaching the bar only a seat away from her and taking a drag from a small instrument that looked like an inhaler. Evelyn could tell it was Jet. Probably one of the numerous chems she'd seen in his office the day before when completing that small job he'd given her. He ordered his drink, and as he waited for it, his head turned in her direction and those dark eyes lit up with recognition. A wry smile quirked his scarred lips and he leaned on the bar casually. "Ah, my favorite little scout. You did good work at the Pickman Gallery." Hancock paused, considering her. "You're still around, eh? Guess you must like Goodneighbor pretty well, then, Sister."

She wasn't sure whether it was the setting, the alcohol, or her own desperation, but she found her voice was finally able to work. "Well the beer tastes like piss, but the folks are pretty nice here. So yeah, I guess I do."

"The beer always tastes like piss," Hancock agreed with a chuckle. Receiving his drink, he took a sip of it and smirked at her, offering her the glass. "You should try the whiskey instead."

Evelyn eyed the drink with a mischievous grin before accepting it and taking a small swig. The liquor was strong, but it was smooth and didn't burn as much going down as she initially thought it would. Setting the glass down and scooting it toward him, she uncrossed her legs to lean forward a bit on her stool, looking at him with intent gray eyes. "You're right. The whiskey is much… much better."

Now she could see something she hadn't before; hesitancy. He hadn't been expecting that sort of forwardness, she supposed. Hancock blinked once before easily shifting right back into that charismatic nonchalance he seemed to be so good at. "Gotta be honest, I didn't expect to see you again after you finished the job I gave ya," he said. "But since we seem to keep finding each other — what's your business here, Sister? Maybe I can point ya in the right direction."

Evelyn's mouth went dry again. There was something so earnest about his gaze; something that made her blood run hot. She opened her mouth to explain her situation — when a cough interrupted her. Gray eyes averted to a drifter standing before them, obviously half-drunk. Before she could question him, Evelyn felt him taking her hand and tugging her out of her seat, obviously for a dance… and she'd had just enough alcohol not to say no. She saw a few eyebrows raise as the singer on stage continued her song...

But what she didn't see was Hancock's eyes narrowing and his lips curling into a scowl as he watched them from his spot at the bar.

Even with a few drinks under her belt, Evelyn was a natural dancer. Being a part of the military gave her core strength, and she couldn't begin to list the number of parties and events she'd had to go to when not on active duty. She'd learned nearly every type of dance there was, as was expected of a woman at the time. Look pretty, be graceful, take care of your home. Evelyn had always had trouble with the gender norms, but she'd actually enjoyed learning to dance. The song was over within a few minutes; the drifter had stumbled a few times, clearly intoxicated, but he was gentlemanly enough, (mostly) keeping his hands to himself. However — when she pulled away, there was a glint in his eye that told her wouldn't leave well enough. And as she made her way back to the bar, he followed her, proving her suspicions correct. "Another?" the drifter asked her, grinning from ear to ear. He wasn't going to take no for an answer, it seemed.

Evelyn gave the scraggly man a sweet smile, subconsciously moving over to where Hancock stood enjoying his drink; one glance at the ghoul told her that his eyes were on her, and probably had been the whole time. She wasn't sure if that knowledge made her afraid or… excited.

If anyone could get her away from this persistent drifter, though, it was him, right?

As Evelyn came to a stop right near Hancock, she continued smiling at the drifter. "I would love to dance again, Mister…?"

"Wolff," he responded hungrily.

"Apt name, Mister Wolff," she said charmingly. "I'd love to dance, but I promised our handsome mayor here a dance earlier on."

A lie, yes — and hopefully the swanky ghoul next to her would play along. For emphasis, Evelyn boldly leaned into Hancock's side, one hand moving up to his chest. She felt his body stiffen under her touch and for a split-second she thought he might pull away — but a glance up at his face told a different story. His dark eyes were filled with… hunger. When he broke his gaze from her and looked back at the drifter, that confident smirk returned to his lips. "She did, pal. I'd be sorry about it, too, but we both know I'd be lyin'."

Something about it sent a thrill through her and her grip on him instinctively tightened.

She wasn't sure whether it was the way she held onto the ghoul, or the dangerous glint in his coal eyes, but the drifter seemed to get the message and trailed off to lick his wounds. Evelyn finally turned her gaze back up to Hancock and when their eyes met, something warm and electric seemed to shoot through them both; the same white-hot arrow piercing both their chests. Her breath caught and her eyes widened… and she saw that same awe reflected on his scarred face.

Something was there. She wasn't sure what it was, but it scared her. Evelyn moved to pull back, to thank him for his help and make a hasty retreat, but his hand caught hers and that confident grin was plastered back onto his face, as if he too had caught himself and quickly put his facade back into place. "We can't disappoint everyone, now can we?" His voice was playful, but underneath that she felt like there was a genuine question. "After all, you did ask 'the handsome mayor' to dance."

She found it much harder to say yes to the ghoul before her than the drifter from earlier; perhaps it was because she genuinely liked Hancock, and knew this dance, at least to her, would be more than simple courtesy. Evelyn didn't know if the warmth in her spine was the alcohol or their close proximity; but finally she found her red lips curling into a sly smile. Damn it. "I did indeed," she replied softly. "I wouldn't want to dance with anyone else, Mayor Hancock."

"That's what I like to hear," he said wolfishly, tugging her out to the dance floor once more. The singer on stage began singing to a slow, strong jazzy beat, but all Evelyn could focus on was the smooth way Hancock's hand drew around her waist to pull her in close. Immediately she could tell that he may not have had a lot of experience with dancing, but the lithe ghoul had loads of natural talent. His body moved to the rhythm with ease and she followed his lead, one hand resting in his palm while the other sat comfortably on his shoulder. He wasn't much taller than her, which the ravenette actually liked; many of her past partners, dance or romantic, were much taller than her and it actually often made things harder.

But this? Possibly the best dance she'd ever had.

What was it she had come here to do again…?

Her eyes lifted to Hancock's face when he spoke, his voice low. "You know my name but I don't know yours, Sister. That seems a little unfair, don't ya think…?"

"You call it unfair, I call it having an advantage," Evelyn replied coyly, lips quirking into a half grin. "Maybe if you save me from a few more drifters, I'll tell you."

He returned the grin as they moved in sync to the swanky beat. "You don't seem like the typa gal that needs savin'."

Evelyn's grin widened. "You might be right." When Hancock lifted his arm, she smoothly spun under it, their bodies coming back together a little closer than before. She could feel heat radiating off of him and it sent a shiver down her back, quaking under his fingers. "Or maybe I'll have a few more drinks and it'll..." bravely, the ravenette leaned in closer to the ghoul, so close that her lips brushed against the shell of his ear; her voice lowered into a whisper. "... just… slip."

The shudder of his body was pleasing and sent a white flash of heat into her stomach. When Evelyn pulled back, she found Hancock's coal black eyes to be filled with molten heat, heat that immediately made her insides turn liquid. Her hand on his shoulder slid inward to the side of his neck, before securing itself at the back of his neck, keeping him close. Her eyes, half-lidded and full of intent, watched his expression. "Unless you have any other ideas… Mayor Hancock."

His voice suddenly went dark… almost hungry. "I can think of quite a few," he rasped, a tongue darting out to wet his lips. Her eyes followed the motion, entranced. "If you'd like to hear them."

Her whole body felt as if it was on fire and she was very aware of how low the hand on her waist had gone, now resting firmly on her hip. The movement of his hips, the warmth of his body, the intent in his eyes… Evelyn wasn't sure she'd ever been so attracted to another human being in her life. She didn't have time to think about it; on instinct, she murmured, "I'd rather you show me."

His brow line furrowed and he sucked in a small breath, his body tensing against her. The electricity crackling between them was apparent now; Hancock leaned in, his face dangerously close to hers. She could feel his hot breath, could see the sparkle on his black eyes, could see the flush of his scarred skin.

And suddenly the song ended, and her trance was broken. Everything from the outside world came tumbling in, as if this whole time she'd been in a blissful bubble that suddenly popped. Her mission, her reason for being here, everything flooded her mind and she suddenly felt angry, mortified, nauseated. Not with him, with herself… for being so easily distracted. Her mouth went agape and she pulled from his body, now only attached to the ghoul by her hand that rested in his own, his arm extending to keep his grasp on her. Their hands lingered for just a moment before the woman turned and fled.

Nick had seen everything that went on. He could easily gauge when Evelyn was playing her part to get what she needed versus when she was genuinely interested in something or someone; and it seemed that she'd had a little too much to drink, because she let John Hancock of all people into her head. The synth had meant to warn her about the ghoul but hadn't had a chance, and there she was, dancing with him. He could tell by both their expressions that they were in their own world, with nothing and no one else on their minds… it was worrying. He knew how Hancock could be and wasn't sure the woman really knew what she was getting into — but he didn't have to interrupt anything apparently, because suddenly the song was ending and Evelyn was fleeing the bar. Nick got up from his spot, tossed some coin onto the counter for Charlie, and took off after her.

He found her outside, leaning against a wall trying to catch her breath. "You alright?" he asked, approaching the woman but giving her space. He stuffed his hands in his pockets as he watched her carefully.

She looked… scared. It was an expression he'd never seen on Evelyn before; she was the type of woman to keep her composure no matter how grim the situation. Nick wasn't sure what went on between her and Hancock when they danced, but it was obviously enough to shake her up. He waited patiently for her to speak. Finally she seemed to be able to calm herself, and she turned her back to the wall, sliding down it to sit tiredly. "I drank too much," she groaned.

"Is that all?" Nick asked, knowing damn well that wasn't the whole truth.

She was silent a moment, putting her face in her hands. "I don't know. I don't know why I danced with him. I don't know why I liked it."

Nick pursed his lips. He felt the urge to light up a cigarette, but knew smoking it wouldn't affect him the way he wanted. It was just his personality setting craving a smoke; but still his fingers itched for the lighter in his pocket. "I saw the whole thing," he finally responded. "Looked like you two were getting pretty cozy. You sure that's the kind of thing you want to get involved with right now? With everything going on?"

"No, no," Evelyn replied defensively. "I don't. I… I don't know why I did it."

"Well, let's just blame it on the alcohol," Nick said with a hint of amusement, lending her a hand to help her up. She took it and he hauled her to her feet, slinging her arm over his shoulder. "Let's get you some shut-eye. The morning will bring a fresh start and a fresh perspective."