A/N: TRACK LIST: "Like Real People Do," by Hozier, and "Words," by Gregory Alan Isakov.

I will not ask you where you came from
I will not ask and neither should you

Honey just put your sweet lips on my lips
We should just kiss like real people do

Words mean more at night
Like a song
And did you ever notice
The way light means more than it did all day long?

Words mean more at night
Light means more
Like your hair and your face and your smile
And our bed and the dress that you wore

"How long do you think it takes to get here from Diamond City…?"

"Not five hours, that's for fuckin' sure. You're positive he said he'd be on his way immediately?"

Evelyn pursed her lips, glancing worriedly down at Hancock's injured leg. She'd stabilized it hours ago in preparation for Nick's arrival with the splint, but the synth detective still hadn't shown up. He could have been side-tracked by something, but it wasn't like Nick Valentine to get distracted or to be late. "Shit," she finally growled, running a hand through her hair and getting to her feet impatiently. Without another word she began looking through the building for anything — anything she could use to get him stabilized enough to get him to Goodneighbor. If nothing else, there would be more supplies available for her to use to help the ghoul. Finding some driftwood, duct tape, and an odd-looking staff that looked like it had come straight out of a fantasy novel, Evelyn took her findings back to Hancock who sat on the lower floor. "This place used to be a comic store," she commented as she laid out the driftwood beside his leg and tore the packaging off the duct tape.

"Comics? Ya mean like Grognak the Barbarian and all that shit?" Hancock leaned his head back against the wall, grinning from ear to ear. "There's a drifter I know back in Goodneighbor. Name's MacCready; he's a real ass. I mean bonafide bag of dicks. He loved those comics; even traded good shit like chems and bullets for super rare issues he was lookin' for. I remember sending Fahrenheit out looking for one when MacCready agreed to trade me some exotic Mentats he found in an old pre-war bunker. Fahrenheit was pissed." The ghoul chuckled as he reminisced, an almost far-away look in his black eyes.

"Those comics were my absolute favorite," Evelyn responded quietly with a knowing smile as she situated his leg on top of the driftwood and carefully began the process of taping the splint. "I had every single issue. Nate always found it silly how every housewife in our Neighborhood would religiously read Picket Fences and there I was sewing a Grognak outfit for Shaun on Halloween."

The ghoul's eyes twinkled as he looked at her, still grinning crookedly. "Didn't think of you as the nerdy type, Sister," he said appreciatively. "Kinda hot if I'm bein' honest."

Evelyn's wry smile grew wider. "Speaking of… are we going to talk about what I felt pressing against me under that rug?"

Immediately Hancock's grin faded and Evelyn was pretty sure she saw his scarred cheeks turn absolutely pink. He quickly tried to cover it up with another charming smile. "What can I say? Danger's a turn-on."

Evelyn shook her head ruefully. "You're about the flirtiest ghoul I've ever met."

Hancock grunted in amusement. "I'm probably the only one that has the sheer charisma to get a date despite how I look."

When Evelyn glanced up from her work, her gaze was piercing. How could he say something like that about himself…? Logically she knew the prejudices ghouls faced, both romantically and platonically, but when she looked at Hancock she couldn't see even a hint of ugliness. "Don't say that," she admonished sternly, only getting a laugh from him. "I'm serious!" The ravenette insisted indignantly, smacking the ghoul's arm. "'Despite' nothing. Ghouls aren't ugly. You aren't ugly."

Hancock's laughter died down and a genuine smile curled his scarred lips. "I'll call it 'unconventional attraction,' then. I guess you're right. I did manage to snag a dance with you, after all."

Heat bloomed in Evelyn's cheeks and she returned her attention back to her work, finishing up the splint with a flourish and nodding approvingly. "That should get us to Goodneighbor. Once we get there I'll be able to give you another Stimpak. Perhaps the doctor in town will be able to give you a more speedy recovery."

"Doctor Amari is who we're lookin' for. It's convenient that she's set up shop in the Memory Den. We can just head straight there. Maybe by that time Nick will be able to meet us."

With a nod, Evelyn decided to contact Ellie on her Pip-Boy once more, asking about the detective and his whereabouts. Ellie's voice sounded confused on the other end. "He's not there? That doesn't sound like him. Hmmm… well, he has been swamped with cases lately. I'm sure he just got side-tracked. There's a suspected kidnapping in the Boston area that he was working really hard on. If he comes back by the office, I'll tell him you're already en route to Goodneighbor."

When Evelyn disconnected, she found Hancock already on his feet and ready to go. It was clear he was in quite a bit of pain despite the Stimpak, but he was tough and independent. She doubted he'd let her assist him even if she tried. Giving the decorated staff to him to lean on, she giggled when the ghoul took it. "You're a wizard, Hancock," the ravenette teased.

"Then I'll be the most patriotic motherfuckin' wizard you've ever seen," he countered with a smug grin as the two collected their weapons and hats and set on their way. Evelyn kept close watch on the buildings on the opposite side of the lake but whoever had been there was truly gone or too scared to shoot, like she'd thought before. Their journey to Goodneighbor, thankfully, was free from any further encounters. When they arrived, the ghoul was greeted like a celebrity — the drifters at the entrance all brightened when they saw him, and he was given more handshakes than Evelyn thought possible. Hancock took it all in stride — grinning in that charming way he always did, treating everyone like an old friend, even if they weren't. He truly was charismatic. Born to be a leader… and here she was having him trail along with her like some sidekick. Guilt welled up in the pit of Evelyn's stomach, despite what Hancock had said earlier. He'd told her more than once he didn't regret joining her — so why couldn't she just listen to him and stop feeling so bad?

Kindly and politely, Evelyn tried to cut the conversation short so that she could get Hancock to the Memory Den — the sooner he got some assistance with that leg, the sooner he'd be out of pain and start healing from his injury. As they passed through Goodneighbor, she noticed that all the rubble from the State House had been cleaned, and other than the incredible absence of that monumental building, the town was back to normal — flourishing, even. A sideways glance at the ghoul beside her told her he was taking it all in, too, and she made a mental note to check in on him later.

The moment they entered the Memory Den, a blonde woman who'd been lounging on a couch toward the back of the main room stood up, her face practically glowing with joy. "Well my stars — if it isn't the most handsome Mayor in all of the Commonwealth.~"

"Irma," the ghoul greeted with a roguish grin. "Still wearing that sassy red get-up. Have you been takin' care of the place while I'm gone?"

"Doing my best," the woman replied, sauntering closer. Upon further inspection Evelyn could see faint age lines on her face, although Irma hid them well. She really was beautiful — sultry, even. "Although no one's here to take care of me, now.~" as she spoke, her hand came up to rest on the ghoul's chest, index finger making little patterns on his shirt. The way she was looking at him, all pouty lips and glimmering eyes, sent a hot, tight ball of anger straight into Evelyn's stomach. She quickly and perceptively recognized the emotion as jealousy — but why?

Well, she knew why, but she didn't want to admit it.

The ravenette did well to hide her expression, using her legendary poker face. Nate had always said that Evelyn was a master of the neutral expression, and it seemed to come in handy now, too — although to be fair, Irma hadn't even looked her way. The blonde was too busy making goo-goo eyes at Hancock.

The ghoul laughed; suave and charismatic as opposed to the genuine, hearty ones Evelyn had heard before. Carefully taking Irma's hand from his chest and grasping it gently, he said, "is Amari in the back? Gotta get my chem fix. You know me.~ And my lady friend here has some important questions to ask."

For the first time Irma looked away from the ghoul to focus on Evelyn, her shrewd eyes narrowing slightly; then she gave her a wide smile. "Of course, darling," she said to Hancock, still staring holes through Evelyn's face. Finally she turned her gaze back to her query. "I thought you liked blondes, my dear Mayor."

Hancock stiffened — Evelyn could see it in his shoulders — but his charisma and easy smile was as practiced as her own. Irma didn't seem to notice as the ghoul said, "I like people, Irma. Especially the one standing behind me." Letting her hand go, he gave her a small wink as he began to pass by. "Good to see ya, doll. Glad to know Goodneighbor is in capable hands while I'm off on my adventure."

Evelyn was still reeling from the odd conversation in the Memory Den's main room as she followed Hancock into the back rooms. These were much smaller but were filled with all sorts of equipment, both medical and technological. A woman stood with her back to them; as she whipped around, she looked at them with stern dark eyes. Amari was a tanned woman, probably of Indian descent, with dark hair and equally dark eyes that seemed to pierce Evelyn's very soul as she looked at her. Instinctively the ravenette moved closer to Hancock, her shoulder brushing his. "She's scary," she muttered to him.

A small chuckle. A genuine chuckle. "Not scary. Just… intimidating. Right, Amari?"

Looking him up and down, the doctor set a hand on her hip and pursed her lips angrily. "What have you done to yourself now, Hancock?" she demanded.

"Come on, Amari. That any way to greet your favorite Mayor?" The ghoul chided with a smug grin.

"Well, with how well Fahrenheit is running things, you might not be my favorite anymore — if you ever were," Amari scolded, gesturing to one of the medical chairs. "Sit."

"Fahrenheit…" As Hancock obeyed orders, carefully using his hands to lift his splinted leg onto the long medical seat,he seemed… pensive. And Evelyn immediately understood why. In their journeys he'd talked about the ginger woman a lot — and having met the woman herself, Evelyn could see why Fahrenheit was so important to the ghoul. As Amari set to work examining the splint and beginning to pry it apart, the wheels in Hancock's mind were turning as he tried to figure out what to say. What to ask.

"Who did this splint?" Amari demanded.

Hancock nodded over the doctor's shoulder and Evelyn felt herself tense up just a little bit under the other woman's sharp gaze. Finally that facade cracked and Amari smiled slightly. "You did well, considering the circumstances," she said, turning back to her work. "I imagine you two were out on the road. Is Goodneighbor a pit-stop or a final destination?"

Evelyn bit her lip. "I — well — the Memory Den specifically was our destination…" she faltered. "H-Have you seen Nick Valentine? He was supposed to… meet us."

Amari didn't cease working, but Evelyn could see her shoulders stiffen. "What is going on here? I imagine you two didn't come here expecting to have a little trip down memory lane with Nick Valentine of all people."

Evelyn found herself speaking without even thinking — and unloading pretty much everything that had happened since she woke up from her long, icy sleep; including her husband's death, her pursuit of her son, the chip they'd found, and what they were trying to do with it. By the time she'd finished, Amari was re-splinting Hancock's leg and the ghoul looked like he had much more color in his face. "It'll take a day or two, but you'll be up and running again," the doctor said gravely, before pushing the ghoul back down when he tried to sit up. "But you need to take the next few days slow. I used a special serum on you, one that greatly speeds up the healing process — but if you don't take it easy, you'll end up worse off than when you came in! Is that understood?"

"Yes, Amari — I've got it. I've got it. No wigglin' around for a day or two." As he sat up carefully, Amari helped pull his newly-splinted leg over the edge of his seat. The ghoul nodded in Evelyn's direction, his expression serious. "So you're sayin' you haven't seen Nicky around at all?"

"Haven't seen that man in years," Amari replied gravely, finally turning away from Hancock and leaning back slightly against the counter behind her. Tossing her gloves in the trash, she let out a sigh. "I see what you're trying to do," she said to Evelyn, "and I understand the immensity of your goal. However — even if Mister Valentine shows up, I can't guarantee that this will work. In fact, I can almost guarantee that it won't. The memory loungers were made for a fully organic brain inside of a living person. Do you two understand how crazy you two sound, asking what you're asking?"

Evelyn grinned sheepishly. "Well, call me crazy then, because I'll do anything to find my son."

Amari's expression warmed slightly. "Nothing compares to a mother's love," she responded. After another moment, she held out a hand. "May I see the chip?"

Evelyn dug through her pocket and carefully withdrew the wrapped-up chip Deacon had given her, handing it over. After a long moment of analysis, Amari finally gave it back. "I will try this," she answered, "but it will almost certainly fail without Mr. Valentine's help. If you can get him to meet you here, we'll give this a shot. Maybe, just maybe, we'll get a clue on how to find your son."

Evelyn's smile grew. "Thank you, Doctor Amari. Now… now I need to find Nick."

Hancock had insisted that "they" needed to find Nick together, but Evelyn gave him one sharp look and reminded him what Amari had said. She helped him out of the Memory Den and to the Rexford Hotel where they could stay while they figured this mess out.

Hancock was trying to sort out his thoughts as he settled into the penthouse room at the top of the hotel; the last time he'd been in this room, Evelyn was the one with the injury. He'd learned quite a bit about the mysterious woman while stitching up her shoulder that day… the same day he'd decided to change his life and come with her.

He popped some Mentats into his mouth and took a hit of Jet as said woman exited the room to speak with Ellie on her Pip-Boy. He shortly heard a fuzzy "oh! It's you! He'll be really happy to see you," and the door opened up. The ghoul's vision was blurry from the drugs currently running through his system, but he recognized the voice that spoke. He'd recognize that voice anywhere.

"Shoulda known you'd be high off your ass when I came to see you."

A wide, lazy grin curled Hancock's lips. "Shoulda known this was what I'd get from you instead of a 'welcome back, handsomest mayor of all time.'"

Fahrenheit merely crossed her arms over her chest, expression cold, but Hancock knew her well enough to focus in on her despite his wacky vision and see the amusement on her pale face. "I know you're wondering, so I'll update you. Goodneighbor is fine. After the attack people dedicated themselves to moving on. We've put in some extra defensive measures and business is as good as ever. There were a few fights after the whole battle — people blaming one another for what happened and all that shit — but I set them straight. Folks are missing your 'inspiring' speeches, though — I suppose I don't have quite as much natural charisma as you do."

"You? Lacking charisma? Who'da thought."

"Shut the fuck up." Fahrenheit lowered her arms, mouth quirking into a half smirk now. "I've gotta go. Some things to take care of. Meet up at the Rail later and get blasted?"

"Just like the good ol' days," Hancock chuckled. "If my crippled ass can make it down there, you're on. Thanks for stoppin' by, Fahr. It… it was good seein' ya."

Fahrenheit turned to leave, then glanced back. "You look well. Better than I've seen you in years."

As she left the room, Hancock lowered his gaze, still grinning. Despite them being in yet another predicament, what with Nick being late and the urgent need to get those memories analyzed, Hancock found that… Fahrenheit was right. He felt good. This was good. This was right.

Being the Mayor of Goodneighbor was a good gig. Hancock has helped free the people from the oppression of Vic and his goons, and created a place where everyone was welcome. Hell, if he hadn't been Goodneighbor, who knew if he'd have ever met Evelyn?

But this journey Evelyn was on — it was something truly meaningful, and Hancock felt right being at her side. It was hard to describe and if he thought about it too much, it really was truly odd — but his gut told him this was still the right decision.

He was disturbed from his thoughts by the presence of Evelyn entering the room, looking perturbed. "Ellie said Nick hasn't been back. She also told me she doesn't think it's anything to really worry about yet… but I can't help but be worried. She said to give it a day. I don't know whether I am right to be upset and worried or if I'm just blindsided by my desire to save my son…"

Hancock pursed his lips thoughtfully, watching her pace. Finally he patted the space on the bed next to him and, looking at him uncertainly, the ravenette approached the bed and sat down stiffly. His black eyes wandered her frame; he could see the tension in her shoulders, the stress lines on her tanned skin, the furrowing of her brows which stretched the scar over her left eye. "Look at you," he said warmly. "To think I ever had any doubts."

"Doubts?" Evelyn quirked a smile. "I thought I was the picture of confidence."

Hancock grinned wryly. "You kiddin' me? You looked like you'd fallen straight outta the Vault the day we met. I thought I'd see you pickin' your teeth outta the gutter by sun up." Seeing her confusion, he added, "You, pickin' a fight with Finn. Not keepin' your head down and your hands clean. It's real rare these days to find someone who's not willin' to just take things the way they're handed to 'em."

Evelyn's expression warmed and a genuine smile curled her red lips, now. Those impossibly red, delicious lips. Lips he'd had one taste of — a taste that had left the ghoul desperately craving more. Her voice broke him from his thoughts and he found himself dragging his eyes away from that mouth as she said, "I don't know how to describe it. I don't even think it's a choice. I just… it's my instinct."

Goddamn this woman. This beautiful, perfect woman. How could the person who seemed to be the exact mirror image of himself be born 200 years ago? Hancock reached out, taking her hand firmly in his own. "You're different, Evelyn. Too good for this place. In this world there are too many good people not willin' to get their hands dirty… and too many assholes willin' to take advantage of it. Take a look at Diamond City… Before that asshat McDonough took over, it was a half-decent place to live. Little more strict than I usually go for, but not terrible." At this point Hancock became lost in memories, speaking without really registering what he was saying or the secrets he was giving away. "Hell, I thought he and I had a pretty happy childhood. Decent relationship. But then he decides to try and get elected with his anti-ghoul crusade — "Mankind for McDonough." Before you know it, you've got families with kids lined up to drag folks they called 'neighbor' outta their homes and throw 'em to the ruins."

The shock on Evelyn's face gave the ghoul pause and his brow line quirked. "That's… that's awful," she finally said. "I saw that people in Diamond City seemed very paranoid and… well, racist. But I never knew how it happened." Her eyes drifted up from her own lap to look Hancock in the eye. "Mayor McDonough is…?"

"My brother, yeah," Hancock answered with a forced casual tone. He'd been so absorbed in the story itself that he hadn't even realized all he'd told her. He was hesitant now, but not exactly regretful; the ghoul was pretty private about his past and it was difficult to open him up, but if anyone deserved to know… it was Evelyn. "We grew up together in a little shack on the waterfront. Guy was the standard older brother — entitled, punchy, liked to shove rotten tatoes down my shirt and slap my back."

"His name is Guy?" The ravenette grinned like a Cheshire. "How… original."

Hancock couldn't help but be amused, though his smile was somewhat bitter. "About as original as John, I'd guess," he replied.

Evelyn's grin faded just slightly. "So John is your real name," she said quietly.

"Yup. John and Guy McDonough. I liked to imagine our parents gave us such dull names to have a sense of normalcy in this crazy ass life. Wanted to pretend we were one of those perfect families you see in the old pre-war magazines." Hancock let the woman's hand go, leaning his head back against the wall tiredly. He wasn't sure if it was the drugs he took or the drugs Amari gave him, but he could feel the energy drain out of him with each sentence. "We had a pretty normal childhood, as normal as you can get in this apocalypse. Guy was a jerk sometimes, sure, but I never thought he'd be capable of something like what they did to those ghouls."

Evelyn's face scrunched angrily. "How could they do that? I knew that damn settlement was full of racism, but to go that far…"

Hancock squeezed her hand slightly. He knew what she was feeling, and how strongly she was feeling it; he'd felt it too when it had initially happened… and if he thought about it long enough, he could still feel that searing anger burning in his chest. "There had always been a pretty big gulf between the folks living in the stands and the folks down on the field… McDonough's campaign was just the match that lit the fire." His coal colored hues grew distant once more as he replayed that night in his mind's eye. "I remember storming into his office above the stands after his inauguration speech. He was just… standing there, staring out the window, watching as the city turned on the ghouls. He didn't even look at me, just said, "I did it, John. It's finally mine." I shoulda killed him right then and there…"

Evelyn's brows furrowed; she had that look of confusion on her face, that same look most everyone gave him when he talked like this. Hancock's eyes hardened, his expression growing cold and impartial. "Justice is justice, no matter who gets it," he explained, voice rough. "McDonough may be my brother, but he's a cold, cruel bastard; one that deserves what's comin' to him. Someone needs helpin', we help 'em. Someone needs —"

"— hurting… we hurt them," Evelyn finished with a small nod. It was Hancock's turn to be surprised; most people agreed to disagree or tried to convince him violence wasn't the solution, but Evelyn seemed to accept his answer without any reservation. When her eyes met his, he found warmth there — a warmth that made him tingle from head to toe. She accepted him wholly, the good and the bad.

Immediately his hard expression melted away and his lips curled into a small, sly smile. "Are we gonna talk about that kiss, Sister?" He finally asked, voice going low.

A blush crawled its way up her tanned cheeks and she immediately averted her gaze, causing his grin to widen. It was good to know he still had that effect on her… just as she seemed to have that effect on him. Something occurred to Hancock in that moment, as he held tight onto her hand and peered intently at her; they were both broken people with terrible pasts. People who'd lived through tragedy — who, in some way, were still living tragedy — and yet… they didn't concern themselves with the past. They both accepted each other for who they were now.

And that was something the ghoul had never had.

Evelyn chewed her lip anxiously and Hancock's gaze immediately drifted down to that mouth; he'd never found a nervous habit like that to be so hot before. On instinct his free hand came up to caress her cheek, scarred thumb brushing over her lower lip to free it from the grasp of those pearly whites, suddenly feeling much more tense and eager than before. "Or maybe we could just… do it again," he rasped, grinning wolfishly as she trembled against him. Kiss her. Kiss her. Kiss her. Kiss that sweet mouth before she can pull away again.

Evelyn's breathing was shaky as she parted her lips in an attempt to answer him; the urge to let his thumb make its way into her mouth was nearly overwhelming, dueling with his desire to taste it instead. Finally his body acted on impulse and the ghoul leaned in, face dangerously close to her own. She was a breath away.

And her Pip-Boy beeped.

Jesus Herbert Christ. A part of him was selfishly hoping she'd ignore it, but he knew she wouldn't. Evelyn seemed to break out of the bubble they shared and pulled back, letting out a shuddering breath. Standing up abruptly and moving away from the bed, she fiddled around with it. Suddenly Hancock could hear Ellie's fuzzy voice coming through: "Hey Evelyn, Nick just got back. He'd been on his way through Boston and had… erm, gotten delayed. By the time he got to your location you were gone. He's back here at the office, safe and sound — well, for the most part."

"I'm just glad he's alright," Evelyn replied with relief in her voice. "I'm guessing Super Mutants? Those peanut-brains love to bully people in this area."

Ellie chuckled slightly. "Close. Raiders. Another brand of peanut-brain. Nick sends his deepest apologies. As soon as he can patch himself up he'll be on his way to Goodneighbor — although with how late it already is, it may be morning before he can get there. Will you still be there?"

"Of course." Evelyn breathed a sigh of relief. "Tell him I said thank you. I know we had a plan for Dogmeat to sniff Kellogg out, but I believe this may be our best lead on Kellogg. His help is… invaluable."

Hancock didn't wait for the ravenette to hang up before getting to his feet and adjusting his stance so the splint wasn't so uncomfortable — although he had to give it to Amari for the discretion. The thing was so light-weight and slender that it was barely noticeable. At least he wouldn't be looked at with pity as long as he didn't try to run anywhere. If there was something besides injustice that got John Hancock irrationally angry, it was pity.

"I don't know about you," he said lightly, trying his best to brush off the fact that they'd been close to making out just a minute ago, "but I need a drink. And I promised Fahrenheit I'd see her at the Rail while I was here."

Evelyn stared at him expressionlessly for a long moment; at first the ghoul thought she might berate him for wanting to get drunk when they had a mission here. But Nicky wasn't coming until morning, right? And he didn't wanna sit with his thumb up his ass all night.

But she just smiled at him; a sweet smile that brought back that spine-tingling warmth, shooting straight through his chest. "Go. You deserve a good time after all you've been through."

His brow-line raised. "Ya know… you deserve a good time, too."

She took a step closer to him; closing that distance brought goosebumps to the ghoul's scarred flesh. Evelyn brushed a hand over his cheek, still giving him that saccharine smile that made him ache with admiration. "You're a good man, John Hancock."

God. Why did a lump form in the back of his throat? Why couldn't he seem to fucking swallow it down? Don't cry. Don't you dare fucking cry, Hancock.

"I may join you later. I'm going to go get some supplies before Daisy's closes. Save me a glass of whiskey...?"

"Sure will," the ghoul croaked, blinking furiously. The ravenette leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his cheek that was a hundred times more intimate than any sexual encounter he'd ever had. He could smell the scent of her shampoo in her hair, could feel the tingles her lips had left behind, could hear her footsteps as she walked away, leaving him standing there in a daze.

It took a solid minute for Hancock to regain his wits enough to walk, carefully heading down to the bottom floor of the Rexford and making his way out into the brisk night air. As he slowly trod over to the newly-made entrance to the Rail (the old one had been crushed with the falling of the Old State House), Evelyn's words danced around in his head like a little fucking cartoon birdies.

You're a good man, John Hancock.

"I remember Ham kickin' that drifter out — what was his name? Phil? — anyway Ham kicked him out so fast he didn't even have time to finish grabbin' that girl's ass. And the best part is — this is karma for ya — next mornin' I saw old Phil in a nearby gutter, ass-up with that same bottle of rum he'd been cradlin' the night before!"

The group roared with laughter. Ever since Hancock's arrival to the Third Rail, a raucous party had been going on. Three drinks in, the ghoul felt absolutely no pain in his leg and was sharing old stories with a large group; among those involved were Fahrenheit and MacCready, two faces Hancock hadn't seen in a while. He was happy to reunite with the good folk of Goodneighbor, but most of all he was happy to see Fahrenheit. She'd been his bodyguard and his right-hand man for a long time and a bond like that was never forgotten. Getting piss-drunk with her by his side like the good ol' days was lifting his spirits considerably and suppressing all the confusing new emotions he'd been feeling for months now. It was almost as if he'd never met Evelyn —

— and that sudden thought had his smile fading and his laughter dying down. It was extremely sobering, the prospect of never having met that woman. That woman whose words rang in his head on repeat. "You're a good man, John Hancock."

Was he?

Hancock has done plenty of bad things. He'd done plenty of good things too. He'd robbed a man for chems and he'd also freed a settlement from a tyrant. Did Evelyn see all the bad? Did she realize what kind of man he truly was?

"Another for our prodigal Mayor?" Whitechapel Charlie asked from behind the ghoul. Hancock turned toward the bar rather than leaning back against it and nodded, extending his glass. He watched with dull eyes as it filled halfway with dark, bittersweet liquid, and continued to stare at his drink until another voice interrupted his thoughts.

"You seem… different, and also the same."

A small, humorless smile curled the ghoul's lips. "Never thought you were the emotional type."

"Stop talking, smart-ass." The raider leaned back against the bar next to him and took a swig of her fire whiskey. "Listen. Everyone is… glad to have you here again. But don't stay. You're better off out there."

Hancock glanced sideways at her. "Hmmm." His lips pursed. "You shooing me outta here?"

Fahrenheit cracked a half-smile. "Shut the hell up and drink with me."

As Hancock downed his glass, Charlie refilled his drink and set some water down in front of him as well, jabbing a mechanical pincher at the glass of clear liquid. "Don't bloody care if you're the Mayor, Ham'll still throw your ass out if ya cause a ruckus. Drink."

With a lopsided grin, the ghoul obeyed orders and drained the cup of water before returning to his glass of rum. Magnolia was singing something more up-beat and quite a few of the bar patrons had decided to get up and dance. Hancock simply watched with twinkling eyes, remembering the last time he had danced here at the Rail. It was with someone — someone special — and now, he could really think of anyone else he ever wanted to dance with again.

As his eyes wandered the room curiously, they stopped on a pair that sat in a grouping of seats, chatting almost amiably with glasses in-hand. When did they get drinks without him seeing it? And when the hell did Evelyn start talking to Robert MacCready? And since when did MacCready have even so much as a hint of a smile on his face?

Hancock didn't know whether to be surprised, happy, or green with jealousy. He suddenly remembered what Evelyn had said about reading Grognak the Barbarian and the pieces fell into place. He wanted to approach them but felt it best to let her do what she wanted to. He didn't have to shove himself into every part of her life; besides, by that point, someone had taken his hand and dragged him off to the dance floor, leaving no room for argument.

"Listen; I'm not saying that Skullpocalypse was a better villain than Femme-Ra… but he definitely was."

Evelyn laughed, shifting so she could focus her attention more on MacCready all while nursing her drink. This was the guy Hancock had mentioned in that comic book store; the one who collected Grognak comics like religious relics. She'd been discussing the comics with him for half an hour now, and she had to say he'd quickly become one of her favorite people in Goodneighbor despite his untrusting and grouchy demeanor. He'd been pretty rude at the beginning of the conversation but the ravenette had quickly found his weakness and they dove into a Grognak discussion that rivaled the ones she had with her late husband, Nate. "But Femme-Ra isn't really even a villain! She's more of a former villain-turned anti-Hero. She's also got such a complex love story with Grognak that makes for excellent media. Sure, Skullpocalypse is a stronger villain — no doubt about that — but I was on the edge of my seat every time I saw Femme-Ra's interactions with Grognak on my television set."

MacCready's eyes widened just slightly. "You… you're lying."

Evelyn's brows raised in surprise. "Why would I be?"

"Televisions haven't worked since the war," MacCready said. "You'd have to be — two hundred or more. Hell, you wouldn't even be alive." That wariness returned to the man's blue eyes as he snarled. "Anything else you're lying about? Maybe you're not even a real fan of Grognak."

Immediately the ravenette realized her blunder and pursed her lips. "Ah, about that," she responded almost sheepishly, "Just call me the Crypt Keeper because I am that old."

MacCready watched her with narrowed eyes, still deciding on whether or not to believe her. "Tell me about something pre-war, then, if you're so old."

Evelyn smiled wryly. She could tell him her whole story, but what would be the point of that? Instead she simply said, keeping her voice carefully even, "on the day the bombs fell, it was Halloween night. I'd just finished making a Grognak costume for Shaun and my husband, Nate, was watching the news and preparing the candy bowl for the trick-or-treaters. Halloween was always one of my favorite holidays; it's full of laughter and costumes and free candy. It was going to be my son's second Halloween. I'd stayed up all night making that costume."

MacCready pursed his lips, focusing on his drink for a moment. Evelyn's eyes lifted and for the first time she noticed Hancock — not near the bar chatting with Fahrenheit, but out on the dance floor with… a woman. She wasn't sure whether to feel jealous or happy for him, seeing him loosening up and having a good time. Maybe he could feel her watching, or maybe he was just intuitive, but as the song ended, the ghoul looked across the bar, staring right at her. Her breath caught and she found her heart racing suddenly, lips parting to try and get more air in.

And then he bid his dance partner goodbye as a slower instrumental came on, a soft, happy sound with piano and light guitar and a gentle jazz snare. It reminded her of the old indie bands she and Nate would listen to before the bombs fell. Hancock, never breaking his gaze from her, crossed the Rail and came to stand before her, offering a hand. Evelyn finally glanced over at MacCready with wide eyes. He only nudged her, expressionless.

Biting on her lip, the ravenette took the ghoul's hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet, taking her to the dance floor area where a few other groups were swaying drunkenly to the beat. As they passed the bar Evelyn set her glass down, and Hancock pulled her into his arms as their dance began. "Like ridin' a bike," he said softly, expression warm as he gazed at her, sending tingles through her whole body.

She set one hand on his shoulder; he took the other into his own, holding it tenderly. It was so strange how someone who's soaked himself in so much blood could be so gentle with her… so kind… but at the same time, it wasn't strange at all. Hancock was a good man, if a little prone to violence; his heart was in the right place. He wanted to free the world from oppressive tyrants and it was an admirable goal. "Feels just as good as the first time," she replied softly with a wink.

A grin curled his lips as he swayed with her, his arm tightening just a little bit around her waist. "You have no idea, Sister," he rasped. The tone of his voice sent heat jolting through the ravenette; she wasn't sure if it was the alcohol, her attraction to him, or both, but she found herself instinctively pulling him closer by the arm around his neck.

"You were right about MacCready," Evelyn began in an effort to keep her mind in the right places. It was all too easy to let herself slip when the charismatic ghoul was so close to her, watching her with those piercing black eyes. "That might've been the longest 'Grognak the Barbarian' conversation I've ever had."

The ghoul grunted in amusement, eyes briefly wandering over to where said drifter was nursing his drink by himself. "He's rough around the edges, and most definitely an asshole, but he's alright. Not the worst person to be around." Pulling back, he twirled Evelyn under his arm before smoothly bringing her back in; they were so close that their bodies were brushing against one another with each movement of the dance. It was becoming increasingly difficult to concentrate on anything other than how much she wanted his hands to touch more of her. His voice broke her from her distraction, though it did little to assuage the heat spreading through her whole body. "Lemme ask ya somethin'."

"Shoot," Evelyn responded, eyes wandering the room as they continued to sway.

"Does my past not bother you?"

Evelyn's brow rose, a wry smile curling her lips. "You don't seem like the kind of man who cares if his past bothers anyone," she replied at first; but when her eyes met his, she found a genuine question there. No insecurity or blustering; just… surprise and curiosity. Her lips pressed together as she tried to sort her thoughts. "Well," the ravenette began, "in short — no. We all have a past, Hancock. Mine is filled with blood, too. And I don't regret the lives I've taken, just as you don't. It doesn't make either of us bad people… because we've done what we've done to protect those we love, for justice, to defend ourselves, to make the world a better place. Whatever you've done, your heart is in the right place. It's why I…"

She trailed off, mouth suddenly dry at the mere thought of what she might've said had she kept going. Hancock tilted his head to try and meet her wandering gaze, eyes narrowing slightly on her. "Ya trailed off there," he said softly. "Gonna leave me hangin', Sister?"

"I had to wait quite a while to find out what you had wanted to say to me, back in Sanctuary," Evelyn replied, eyes twinkling.

The ghoul's scarred lips curled into a half-grin. "So you're gonna put me through the same torture, huh?"

Evelyn met his gaze and the absolute admiration in those eyes sent pleasant warmth shooting down her spine, spreading through her whole body. On instinct, the arm curled around his neck shifted so she could use her hand to bring his head down to her level, leaning up slightly to bring their faces together. She could feel the heat of his body, the shuddering of his breaths, the widening of his eyes. She closed the minimal distance; as her lips ghosted against his, she felt that same electricity as before. It was life-giving, transcendental — Kissing Hancock filled her with a vitality she'd never had before. Kissing him made her feel, somehow, that everything would be alright. That the world would right itself and they'd live happily together to the end of their days.

With a small, sharp breath, the ghoul pulled back to stare at her with black eyes that were suddenly hazy with desire. "Ya tryin' to distract me with those lips of yours…?" he rasped, his voice sending white-hot pleasure shooting into her stomach.

"Is it working?" The ravenette whispered, gazing intently at him. She could see her own arousal reflected in his expression.

The ghoul shivered against her, their dance becoming much slower and more intimate. Most others in the bar were too busy with their own partners or drinks to pay much attention anymore, but that was fine by her; Evelyn was in her own little world — a world she shared with Hancock only. "Not sure," he answered hungrily. "I'll have to have another taste to figure it out."

This time, one of Hancock's hands rose to curl his fingers in her hair, bringing her in to claim her mouth — and his lips were firm, demanding, wanton even; she could feel every single part of his desire conveyed through his kiss; without even realizing it, Evelyn let a soft hum of delight escape her throat as her lips parted eagerly for him, his tongue slithering along her lower lip teasingly. In mere seconds the ravenette had completely forgotten their surroundings, why they were even here, everything — everything except for Hancock's mouth on hers, his tongue dueling with her as the taste of whiskey lingered on his lips, the feeling of his arm wrapped around her so snugly, the other in her hair; it was so intoxicating, so consuming that all thought left her and she only sank into his kiss like a drowning woman who'd finally broken the surface of the water.

In the back of her mind, those three frightening little unspoken words seemed to rotate in a never-ending whirlwind. She couldn't dare say it; wouldn't even think it. It was too crazy to even consider; upon exiting the Vault, Evelyn swore Nate would be her last. Her only dedication now was to her son. Somehow… this ghoul had wormed his way into her heart, despite the precautions she'd taken to protect it… and here she was, melting into his arms and trying to avoid thinking about the three scary words that had settled into her chest:

I love you.