A/N: CHAPTER SONG: "I Want to Hold Your Hand," by The Fuxedos (orig. The Beatles). This chapter is a tiny bit shorter than normal, but I wanted this to be super silly and fun! I hope you enjoy reading this ridiculousness as much as I enjoyed writing it. Think of it as a brief intermission from the story while celebrating Hancock's amazing character and just how crazy he is.

What makes this song so special to this chapter is the fact that this cover is by the Fuxedos, a band whose front-man is Danny Shorago - the voice of Hancock himself. This rendition of the song (as well as all their other songs tbh) is so silly that I'm 99% sure the band was high off their asses while in the studio and honestly - it fits Hancock's character to a T! PLEASE listen to the song while you read the chapter and I hope you enjoy!

Oh I'll tell you something

I think you'll understand.

When I say that something,

I want to hold your hand!

When Evelyn opened her eyes, her head, to her utter shock, was absolutely fine. She figured with all the whiskey she'd had the night before she'd have the worst hangover in the wasteland, but all her faculties seemed to be fully intact.

What the hell happened last night?

And why was the sun in her eyes?

The first thing the ravenette noticed was that her bed was smack-dab in the middle of Goodneighbor; right out in the open. Furthermore, no one seemed to care that she'd just been sleeping in the middle of the road… the drifters and citizens of the little settlement went about their business, wheeling and dealing and having smokes. "What the hell is going on?" Evelyn demanded aloud, but everyone around her ignored her. Getting up out of bed, she moved to grab her clothes to find that she was already dressed. Okay, this was suspicious.

"Lookin' good, Sister." The familiar voice caused Evelyn to glance up and she narrowed her eyes on Hancock, who sauntered up to her, followed by Fahrenheit, Daisy from the Discount Store, and… Ham from the Rail? "Slept okay?"

"Just fine, considering I was apparently sleeping right in the middle of the street," she replied, scratching her head in confusion. "What the hell is going on?"

"Nevermind that," Hancock dismissed with a wave of his hand and a cavalier grin, causing the ravenette to raise a brow. "Got somethin' to tell ya."

"Well spit it out." Something about this wasn't right.

Without warning the ghoul reached out and pushed Evelyn back onto the bed behind her — which had suddenly turned into — a chair? She stumbled back into it, staring up at him in shock as Hancock took hold of a microphone stand, handling it like a pro and still grinning at her in that charming way of his. What was even more odd, the others behind him had all taken up instruments of their own; Fahenrenheit held a guitar in her hands, Daisy was at a keyboard, and Ham tested out his drumsticks on the snare in front of him. Hancock also had a bass guitar strung low on his body and Evelyn thought he looked quite at home; he was a rocker at heart, she just knew it.

On the other hand… these instruments looked shiny and new, like they'd been made before the war and perfectly preserved.

Okay, what the fuck was this? Some sort of fever-induced wacko dream?

And suddenly they began playing and spotlights came out of nowhere, focusing on her as she sat in the chair with eyes as wide as dinner plates. Was Hancock going to... sing for her?

In a burst of sound, everyone began to play their instruments in a groovy pop rock tune, night falling over the town instantly. More colorful spot lights shone down from the rooftops of the nearby buildings — including the Old State House, which was somehow still standing — and the four band members were illuminated fully as they continued to play. Hancock took a long puff of Jet before fixing Evelyn with a flirty stare and leaning into the mix, grabbing hold of his bass guitar and strumming. "Oh yeah, I… wanna tell you something… I think you'll understand. When I… say that something… I wanna hold your hand!"

"ONE TWO THREE FOUR!" Ham shouted from the back and immediately the band exploded into a heavy punk rock version of the tune, wailing on their individual instruments and thrashing about.

Hancock, while still moving around, kept close to his microphone as he half-sung, half-yelled, "I wanna hold your hand — I wanna hold your hand — I wanna hold your hand!"

At this point, Evelyn had given up on trying to figure out what the fuck was going on and just decided to sit back and enjoy the show — after all, it was for her, right? A grin curled her lips as she crossed one leg over the other, giving the ghoul a wink as his growly voice filled the air. The riffs were clipped and there were pauses of silence between each phrase: "Oh please — say to — me-e-e… you'll — let me — be your — … maaaan."

This most definitely was some crazy ass drug-induced dream, the ravenette had deduced that much by now; what she had yet to figure out was why she was dreaming about this. Was it maybe something her subconscious wanted, and her dreams were bringing it to life? She didn't remember taking any chems the night before, however — now the question begged… what the hell had happened before she went to sleep?

"Oh PLEASE — say to — me-e-e… you'll — let me — hold your — heh heh heh — HAAAAAAAND!"

Oh, dear God. Evelyn had to admit, hearing Hancock sing was an utter shock; his voice was wonderful — and hearing him practically roar into the microphone was… absolutely delicious. A shiver rolled down her spine and she sat a little straighter in her chair, watching him with enraptured gray eyes. Hancock himself seemed to be having the fucking time of his life, singing and playing the bass as everyone wailed on their instruments.

Suddenly the scenery seemed to drip away all around her, the walls of Goodneighbor melting into something else entirely. They were all on a beach; not the wastelands near the seas on the east, no — a nice beach… like the ones she'd gone to with Nate before the bombs fell. The band's instruments shifted slightly to a sort of Caribbean-style sound; what was this kind of music again? Reggae, or something like it. "I wanna hold your hand… so let me hold your hand.~"

She thought with the way he was serenading her, no matter how silly it was, she'd let him do much more than that. She wanted him to —

Suddenly the beach faded away to darkness and lower spotlights exaggerated Hancock's scarred features as a dissonant chord rang out loudly. Was he going to turn into the main antagonist of a sci-fi movie now…? Evelyn shifted in her chair uncomfortably as he leaned into the mic with an evil grin and said lowly, "and when I touch you… I feel… happy… inside…" Mic stands dropped from the black heavens above in front of the other band members and Evelyn could hear Daisy wailing behind him as Hancock continued: "it's such a feeling that my love… I can't hide… I can't hide! I can't hide!"

Good God, this was going too far. Evelyn watched, horrified, as Hancock opened a whole tin of Mentats, slamming it against his face repeatedly while the others jumped around like maniacs, hammering on their instruments in a cacophony of random noises. Fahrenheit even went so far as to sling her guitar over her shoulder, smashing it against the ground with an almost animal look in her eyes. After taking all his Mentats Hancock began walking around the area aimlessly, talking to himself in multiple voices while another head sprouted from his shoulder to join him in talking to himself. Ham began thrashing on the drums, using his fists now to beat them rather than drumsticks, and Daisy had somehow gotten hold of a saxophone and was blowing in it while tentacles came out of her shoulders to press down on all the different buttons on the instrument. Fahrenheit began screaming as she smashed her guitar on the ground, and suddenly a cow let out a loud 'moo' from somewhere in the background… The sound was horrendous and Evelyn squeezed her eyes shut, putting her hands up to cover her ears when —

Everything changed around her once more. Well, I found the cow, she thought miserably to herself as she examined her surroundings and found herself on a ranch; a pre-war one. The Brahmin in the pen nearby was perfectly healthy and the grass beneath her feet was lush and green. The sun shone down kindly upon them in a baby blue sky and white puffy clouds lazily moved along the vast plane above. Weirdly enough, the whole band was back on the scene, fully composed and back to normal like they hadn't practically been aliens moments before. Hancock's iconic tricorn hat, however, had been replaced with a cowboy hat and he wore sleek black cowboy boots on his feet, which he propped up on the chair in front of him as he sat down and pulled an acoustic guitar into his lap. The others were likewise relaxed as the ghoul in the center plucked a few happy strings and gave her a content grin. His voice was much more hearty and full now, as if Evelyn's mind had somehow blended his voice with those of the old pre-war country singers: "oh please, say ta meee… you'll let me be yer man. And please, say ta me, you'll let me hold yer hand!"

And then the scenery melted away again, right before her eyes.

Jesus. If this dream was going to go on for an eternity, why couldn't she have some sort of consistency? They were in a swanky bar, and Hancock and his crew were up on the stage with more spotlights focused on them. The ghoul had somehow gotten his hands on a pair of sunglasses, putting them on and taking a shot of what looked like tequila before picking up a saxophone from the stand beside him and pulling the strap over his shoulder. She wasn't sure how the fuck he did it — well, she supposed she did know because this was a crazy ass fever dream — but the ghoul put his lips to the saxophone to play; the notes were deliciously smooth, which wasn't a surprise, but he somehow began to sing while playing. "I wanna hold your ha-a-a-and… so let me hold your hand.~"

This was much better. The ravenette's eyes were practically glowing as he played for her. "And when I touch you, I feel happy, inside — it's such a feeling, that my love…" Even in a drug-induced dream created by her own subconscious, the ghoul was utterly charismatic as he continued to sing and she found herself standing up from her seat at the bar to in fact give him her hand —

— when the bar faded to black and only she and the band were illuminated by spotlights that shone down on them from the darkness above; all four of the band members had microphones but no instruments. Hancock was the first to sing, in a completely normal voice, and Evelyn was shaken by just how beautiful he sounded: "I can't hide."

The others joined in: "I can't hide!"

Then a full chorus: "I can't hiiiiiiide!"

Hancock took a long hit of Jet before passing the small canister around from Ham, to Fahrenheit, to Daisy; the ghoul mayor was the first to begin chuckling, his eyes glazed over from the drug. The four of them began wandering around aimlessly, looking and pointing at things Evelyn couldn't see and laughing. Where Evelyn had just been enraptured with the ghoul, she was now groaning and rubbing her temples in frustration.

Chems.

She tried to pinch herself to wake up but apparently the ravenette was left with no choice but to wait this out as the four of them continued cackling at absolutely nothing.

Here we go again, the woman thought almost abysmally as the scenery changed around her. At least they were all back in Goodneighbor this time — but the Old State House had now been replaced with a giant platform on which the band stood, all decked out with sparkling versions of their uniforms and beautifully restored rock'n'roll instruments. "Oh please, SAY TO ME," Hancock growled into his mic, letting out another wild cackle that unnerved Evelyn to her core, "you'll let me be your maaan!"

"If I say yes, will this lunacy END?" Evelyn yelled, but to no avail. It was as if she couldn't speak at all; or if she did, they completely ignored her.

The shine in Hancock's eyes was so feral it was concerning as his body moved about erratically, his bass guitar swinging at his hips. If she wasn't nearly fearing for her life with how raucous the group was being, Evelyn would have been bewitched by his hips and lithe body. "Ha ha ha — PLEASE, say to me!" Another wild cackle — "you'll let me be your man! I wanna hold your ha-a-and, oh — so let me hold your ha-a-a-and…"

"ENOUGH! ENOUGH!" Evelyn screamed as firecrackers began shooting out from the stage; she tucked her shoulder and barrel-rolled away from one that had landed near her to avoid her foot being blown off. More fireworks shot up into the sky, bursting in a multitude of colors, and other Goodneighbor citizens began gathering around for the first time since this whole thing started. Bodies danced and moved around her, jostling her roughly, and she tried making her way through the crowd to get away from all the noise and danger — but found an invisible wall at the back of the crowd. She beat her fists on it uselessly before finally giving up and pressing her back to the barrier, looking in exhaustion up at the stage. Hancock, now sporting sunglasses again, had begun his final line, "I wanna hold your hand," but was holding out that final note in a silly reiteration while jumping around the stage and bobbing his head. How had this gotten so out of hand?

And finally, with an explosion of sights and sounds that was utterly blinding, the band finished the song with a roar and confetti littered the entire town, some of the flakes landing in Evelyn's hair. As she hastily attempted to dust them out, a black hole opened up beneath her and she had no time to scramble away; she fell.

Farther and farther and farther… into endless black… screaming all the way.

Evelyn awoke with a scream that immediately turned into vomit; turning over in her bed, the woman purged all contents of her stomach onto the floor. God damnit. Her head was pounding to the point she thought her eyeballs might burst out of her head, her whole body felt like she'd been stomped on by a Brahmin, and her stomach was still turning despite being absolutely empty.

Painstakingly sitting up, the ravenette cracked open a can of purified water and drank until it was completely empty; quivering, she got to her feet and avoided the vomit pile, making her way over to her backpack near the door and sifting through it to find a tin of Mentats. Early on in their journey Hancock had let her in on that tip; a Mentat would take off the edge of a hangover. And she had to admit, it did help. The pain ebbed to the corners of her mind as the high of the chem took over and she closed her eyes, leaning against the wall for a few minutes.

When she felt ready to move, cleaning the puke pile was the first thing on her list. Thankfully the showers at the Rexford still worked — kind of — and she washed away all the dirt from the night before, putting on some spare clothes as she left her armored suit out to dry. It must've been close to midday judging from the sunlight streaming through the window of the penthouse. Two things immediately came to mind: where was Nick, and where was Hancock?

And then a third: what the hell happened last night?

Evelyn could remember her crazy dream very vividly — but she had absolutely no recollection of what had actually happened before she went to bed. She remembered dancing with Hancock… kissing him… but after that, her memory went fuzzy.

Heading down to the base floor of the Rexford, Evelyn headed over to where Clair Hutchins sat at a counter. "Has Nick Valentine been here today?" she asked urgently.

Clair's deep-set brown eyes looked lazily over at her. "Nope."

Evelyn frowned. "What about Hancock?"

"Ain't seen him since last night, when he came to take you up to the penthouse. He came back down a few minutes later and went god-knows-where."

Evelyn's brows furrowed slightly and she glanced between Claire and the hotel's entrance. So Nick hadn't shown up, at least not to the hotel, and Hancock was nowhere to be found. Was she still dreaming?

She doubted it. If she was, she wouldn't be feeling the need to upturn the acid in her stomach all over Claire's desk. "Thanks, Claire," she said, forcing a smile and leaving the Rexford as quickly as her aching body would let her. She saw Fahrenheit smoking a cigarette over near the Memory Den and Evelyn rushed over to her before abruptly stopping and swallowing the bile that rose in the back of her throat. It may be time for another Mentat.

Evelyn searched her pocket for the tin she'd stashed there and popped another tab as Fahrenheit looked her up and down with cold blue eyes. "So Hancock has rubbed off on you, too," the red-head murmured.

The ravenette frowned slightly. "Yep. I'm a complete drug addict now. Can't go five minutes without some chems."

Fahrenheit rolled her eyes, flicking her cigarette away and leaning off the wall. Her eyes narrowed on Evelyn, a scowl on her lips. "Cut the shit. You got a death wish or something, causing a ruckus around here?"

Evelyn opened her mouth to protest, to question what the hell the other woman was talking about, when she was interrupted by a drifter on the street to their right. "Heeeey, it's the knockout girl! Helluva party last night, eh?" he cheered, giving her a thumbs up as he went on his way.

What the fuck happened last night?

As Evelyn turned widened eyes back over to Fahrenheit, the red-head opposite her arched a brow. "So you don't remember what you did."

The ravenette could feel the color drain from her cheeks and she fought for words. Finally, she managed, "I need to talk to Hancock."

"Good luck with that," Fahrenheit sneered. "He's in the Rail."

Evelyn didn't waste time; she left the raider woman and ran right for the Rail's underground entrance as fast as her weak body would let her. Things had very obviously gotten way out of hand last night; it was clear she'd done way more than just drinking. But the whole night was still a big blur in her addled mind. Had she said something cruel? Started a fight? Evelyn was usually a woman with a firm hold over all of her faculties, even when inebriated — so the fact that she'd apparently fucked up in a major way was nothing less than horrifying. As she attempted to brush by Ham, the ghoul stuck out an arm to stop her, giving her a cold glare. "Haven't had enough excitement here, lady?" he growled. "Why don't you go cause some trouble somewhere else?"

Evelyn bit down on her lip, attempting to keep composure despite the gnawing pains in her head and the buzzing behind her eyes from her hangover. God, these lights were bright… why were they so bright? "I just need to speak with Hancock," she said apologetically. "I don't know what I did last night… but apparently I have quite a bit to make up for."

"Damn right you do," Ham answered gruffly, "although I can't say it was entirely your fault. You weren't really aware of the drugs you took or what effect they'd have. That wasn't malice, just… sheer stupidity."

"I suppose you're right," Evelyn responded softly, eyes downcast. "I'd still like to talk to Hancock. Figure out what happened and… apologize."

"I doubt he's in the mood to listen," Ham replied, lowering his arm, "but who am I to stop the fight-ring champion?"

The woman's brows furrowed in confusion but she left the issue alone, instead going down the second set of stairs. She found her query sitting at the bar with his back to her, raising an empty glass for another drink and whistling at Whitechapel Charlie. As Evelyn approached the bar, tentatively taking a bar stool beside the ghoul, Charlie muttered something rude at the woman, refilled Hancock's drink, and went to the other end of the bar to clean something absent-mindedly. Evelyn could tell the ghoul knew she was there, but he said nothing; didn't even look at her.

A new pain ailed her along with the nausea and headache and weak limbs; it was a hot throbbing in her chest. Her heart… it hurt, seeing him like this. "What happened last night?" she questioned softly, gray eyes lingering on his face, which he kept turned from her.

When Hancock did look at her, the expression on his face shot an insidious chill down her spine. His dark eyes, those eyes so full of absolute warmth and admiration when they looked at her… were ice cold. "A lot," was his clipped answer.

Though it hurt her to her core to do so, the ravenette maintained eye contact with him, trying to gauge what was really going on. But Hancock's expression was hard as stone, lips barely moving from their pursed state to take a long sip of his whiskey. "I… I can't remember anything…" Evelyn continued, biting down on her lip miserably. "From what I hear, though, it's… bad."

"Bad?" The ghoul snorted, turning his face away from her once more. Everything about him was stiff, as if he was uncomfortable or angry just being near her. Evelyn wanted to reach out, to hold him and apologize for everything, but she knew that wouldn't help matters at the moment — and furthermore, she still didn't know what she needed to apologize for.

Fahrenheit was right; Hancock didn't seem interested in divulging the story, but he did glance over at Evelyn once more, a snarl on his lips. "Huh. Really can't remember, eh? 'I wish I'd never met you. Then this never would have happened. You've ruined everything.' Does that ring any bells, Sister?"

Evelyn's eyes widened and she stared at him in absolute shock. No. She hadn't really said any of that, had she? Her lips parted to say something, anything, but what could she say? He seemed to recollect the night before better than herself… so why would she say any of that?

Hancock tipped his glass and polished off the rest of his whiskey; he reeked of alcohol so he must've been here a while. Perhaps he'd never sobered up, maybe that was why he didn't seem as hungover as herself. Standing from his stool and wavering in place for a moment, he finally looked back at her. "I think I'll be stayin' in Goodneighbor from now on. Or maybe I'll find some other travelin' partner. Either way, I'll be outta your hair. And you know what, lady? Good fuckin' riddance."

Tears spilled from her cheeks, sudden and hot and angry and painful, as she watched him ascend the stairs, not even bothering to look back.