A/N: Hello everyone! Thank you to those who've stuck with this fic; it's been a great ride so far and I hope you all have enjoyed it as much as I have. I'm laying the chapters out a tiny bit differently from here on out; Instead of putting multiple songs in the title of the chapter, I'll be putting the extra songs as subtitles as they become relevant in the chapter. I apologize again if there are any grammatical, spelling, or continuity errors; I don't have any beta readers and don't catch everything myself.

Anyways; to all my fellow Hancock lovers out there - ENJOY! 3

** CHAPTER SONGS:

"Pretty Little Things," by The Crane Wives; and "Oceans," by Seafret.

Pretty Little Things

There are lessons in life no one should have to learn
But trust is now something I make people earn
So I'm not inclined to just give it away
To a pair of blue eyes with some nice things to say

I cut straight to the heart
I don't believe the pretty little things that you say
I've heard a lot of little pretty things
Don't buy me flowers
It pains me to watch pretty little things wilt away
Pretty little things wilt away

A large part of her wanted to go after him. To try and make things right. But really… if she didn't even know what happened, how could she even begin to explain herself? The words he'd spoken, apparently words she herself had said in her drugged-out haze, stung Evelyn to her core. Surely she could never say such horrible things to a person she cared so deeply for — but she had. What could possibly have upset her so much that she caused such irreparable damage?

As Evelyn left the Rail, Charlie muttered "yes, good riddance" under his breath and the ravenette hung her head as she walked up the stairs shamefully. Never in her entire life had her composure been so crumbled that she'd said something like that, especially to Hancock of all people. It was funny — she'd initially come here to Goodneighbor looking for caps to stock up on supplies to fight Kellogg… and she'd walked away with a companion instead. A companion that had become so much more than that.

And now she'd driven him away.

As she exited the Rail and emerged above ground, she caught sight of a familiar face at the entrance to the settlement and her brain kicked into high-gear. "Nick!" Evelyn exclaimed, rushing over to him the best she could with how resistant her stiff body was becoming, and she clutched his shoulders gratefully despite herself. "Thank God you're here… what happened out there? Are you okay?"

The synth's expression remained enigmatic, but his golden eyes were shifty. "I'm sorry about the delay, Evelyn," he said. "Another case… came up."

Briefly Evelyn wondered what could be so important that he'd go back on his word and delay her mission an extra day. If he'd showed up on time, maybe none of this would have ever happened — a small flash of white-hot anger surged through her but the ravenette quickly shoved that thought away. No, she couldn't blame her bad decisions on anyone else. She was at fault for what happened, plain and simple. Guilt aside, there was something odd about the shiftiness of Nick's eyes and his overall unease. "What's wrong, Nick?"

The detective hesitated. "I'll talk with you about it later. What's this important news you have? Is there a surefire way to find Kellogg? I always thought we intended to use Dogmeat's nose to sniff him out."

"This may give us an exact location, and even better, it may give us some other inside info on the Institute," Evelyn replied, gesturing for him to come along. Along the way she told Nick about what all had happened and how she'd acquired the little chip in the satchel at her hip.

"That sounds like a hell of a journey," he said pensively. "I've never heard of these synths; must be a relatively new creation of the Institute… Well, despite my absence I'm glad you got here in one piece," Nick continued, hands stuffed in the pockets of his coat. "Speaking of — I figured Hancock would be with you, considering how he seems to be attached to you at the hip, now."

Evelyn's face paled. As she struggled for words, the synth glanced over at her thoughtfully. "You look hungover. Something happen?"

"I-I'm not sure Hancock will be coming with us," Evelyn responded quietly and left it at that. Thankfully Nick didn't persist on the subject. As they entered the Memory Den, she led him straight to the back, avoiding Irma entirely.

Their arrival caused Doctor Amari's brows to raise. "I was wondering when he'd show up," she said impatiently. "Have you told him everything he needs to know?"

"Not quite." Evelyn turned to the synth, a pleading frown on her lips. "Nick… about that chip. You may be the only one who's able to access the memories on it, considering it's not entirely mechanical. There are biocomponents attached, unique to synths. There are risks involved… so I'm asking. Will you help me?"

Nick pursed his lips. Perhaps he truly thought of the ravenette as a friend and was willing to put his life on the line for her… or perhaps he could see how terrible she felt and how desperate she was, and he felt sorry for her. Either way, he gave her a reassuring smile. "What's the worst that could happen? Let's get that chip inserted into this old tin can and see where it takes us."

"Alright, Mr. Valentine," Amari said, guiding him out front toward one of the open memory loungers. "Take off your hat and coat and let me poke around in there. I'll do my best not to intrude too much."

Evelyn simply stood back and watched them work, feeling a myriad of emotions. Fear; what if something happened to Nick? She'd never forgive herself. But also eagerness to finally get some answers that will lead her one step closer to Shaun. And lastly… shame. Still shame, and heartbreak over pushing Hancock away. She began trying to figure out yet again what the hell happened last night, sinking deeper into her own thoughts until she felt a hand on her shoulder. Looking up, Evelyn saw Doctor Amari staring at her. "We're ready for you to sit in the other lounger." Following the Doctor's gesture, the ravenette opened up the lounger beside Nick's and climbed in, allowing Amari to attach the correct nodes and wires, closing the pod.

Back to the present. She forced thoughts of Hancock out of her mind no matter how hard they persisted, and she let out a deep breath and watched the monitors all around her. "My voice is coming through the speaker behind your head," Amari said from behind her. "We're going to navigate this all together using Mister Valentine as a conduit. Tell me what you see as we come to it. The first memory I'm accessing is code from the Institute; it's very likely that the synth this came out of didn't remember this at all."

"Like a hidden memory," Evelyn responded in understanding. The screens were black for a long moment before they lit up with lines of code. That code slowly shifted into a picture; a picture of what looked to be an Institute Courser speaking with…

Evelyn's hands clenched into fists and her heart began beating faster in her chest.

Kellogg.

Her instinct was to punch straight through the screen… but she forced herself to calm down and took a deep breath, instead listening to the conversation as closely as she could. "They're talking about something called… 'Operation Sanctus.' I assume they mean those synths we encountered. The zealots. They were a ploy to try and get some of the negative attention off the Institute, just as we thought. Probably to draw the Railroad's attention and make them vulnerable, too. But where is Kellogg now?"

She squinted at the monitors, trying to gauge any more of the conversation before the screens went black. Again frustration took over as she learned nothing new. "Let's try this one," Amari suggested. "It's another line of code."

When the screens lit up once more, the code melding into a picture, Evelyn found Kellogg staring right at her and it was even harder to resist the urge to break the monitor in front of her. "Is this thing on?" he drawled, smirking right at the monitor. "Listen closely. You so much as move a finger, you report back to me. The Institute won't have full access to your memory databanks… so go out there. Gather your followers. Cause your chaos. Kill the abominations. We're going to play it smart from now on. But every time you make a move, you report back. We need to know what you're doing and where you're doing it."

The scene disappeared to reveal the inside of a building; it looked like a pre-war military outpost, maybe underground, but Evelyn couldn't be sure. "Damn it!" she hissed, fists clenching. "Give me a location… a location!"

"Hmmm," Amari mused aloud as the memory ended and the screens went black. "Let's dig a little more. Perhaps we'll find a more exact answer. This one is an organic memory; it'll be much more clear, like a movie."

The screens lit up — not with code, but with a video. A first-person video that began on the inside of a dusty yet surprisingly intact room. A man entered, well groomed; he looked like he might be a scientist of some sort. He sat down in a chair across from the camera and smiled slightly. "I've seen your handiwork with the synth monsters at Sunshine Tidings…"

Sunshine Tidings? The people that had lived there, the ones that had programmed Professor Goodfeels, were synths…?

"... and I wanted to give you another opportunity. There is a monster named Virgil in the Glowing Sea… he's been assisting Synths in getting out of the Commonwealth; the Glowing Sea is the perfect place for it because of all the radiation. Humans can't follow without strong radiation suits. Needless to say, he's ushered quite a few of those filthy abominations across the borders and out into the world… free."

"That simply won't do at all," the camera replied in a calm yet unnerving voice; Evelyn recognized that voice as the man whom the chip belonged to. The leader of the zealots.

"I sought you out because I believe you're the only one that can get rid of this filth," the man continued; his expression seemed earnest but Evelyn was convinced he was an Institute representative that had come to get these programmed synths to do more of their dirty work — but who was this Virgil? And was he really helping synths cross the border? If that was the case… why hadn't she ever heard about him from other Railroad agents?

"This Virgil…" the camera spoke slowly. "Is he a member of that disgusting failure of an organization?"

"He — he works alone," the Institute man stuttered, and the memory slowly turned to black. Evelyn's eyes narrowed slightly in suspicion. So he wasn't a member of the Railroad, and she was beginning to doubt that he even helped synths cross the border at all. So the real question now was: who was this Virgil, and why was he so important to the Institute?

"I've found one more," Amari muttered, and the screens began to shift once more. This memory occurred in the building from before; the pre-war bunker that looked to be military.

"Have you ever thought about meeting in a less… cold location?"

The camera panned over to a man whose back was turned, lighting a cigarette. Evelyn could hear Kellogg's voice plain and simple, however: "Nah. Hagen's got plenty of supplies, and even better security measures. How stupid are ya to think I'd give it up?"

Evelyn's eyes widened. There it was. Fort Hagen. She'd been by it countless times, turned away by the fact that the front entrance was caved in… how many times had she traveled right on top of Kellogg and hadn't even known it…? Rage filled her stomach and without waiting, the ravenette yanked the nodes from her head and exited the pod, trying to catch her breath and keep calm. "Fort Hagen. He's in Fort FUCKING Haven!"

Amari looked up from her own terminal, shocked. "Miss Pressley, you shouldn't disconnect yourself from the pod like that, it's unsafe!" she admonished harshly. "We'll discuss your findings when — if — I can safely disconnect Mister Valentine from this chip we've put in his head. You're going to have to give me a few minutes."

Evelyn's attention immediately turned to Nick, who sat in another pod, unconscious. Worry filled her, replacing all the rage she'd just felt, and she bit down on her lower lip anxiously as she watched Amari work on the terminal, clicking away at the keys rapidly. "Damn it," the Doctor cursed, her speed increasing. "The chip — it's kicking me out. It won't let me disable it safely…"

"Shit!" Evelyn rushed over to the pod, yanking it open. "I'm not going to let anything happen to Nick — not after he stuck his neck out for me! I'll yank that damn chip out myself if I have to!"

"No!" Amari protested. "If you pull it out without disabling it, you could do irreparable damage!"

"And what happens if I just leave the chip in?!"

Amari pursed her lips. "I… I'm not sure. The chip could fuse with his own and cause personality malfunctions… or it could take over completely!"

Evelyn scowled. "Nick would rather die than become something that betrayed everything he believed in." And she reached into Nick's exposed cranial wires and saw the offensive chip. Yanking it out, she threw it aside and grabbed Nick's shoulders, pulling the nodes off of his head. "Nick? Nick?"

But she received no answer.

Amari gasped from behind her. "The chip disrupted his power core when you took it out…" she whispered. "H-he's… gone."

"Like hell he is," Evelyn said through gritted teeth, hastily blinking back tears. "I have to do something! Do you have — a source of electricity?"

Amari jumped. " — a shock baton, in my office! I use it for personal protection." She left quickly and in mere moments she was back, wielding the heavy object and offering it to Evelyn. Evelyn jammed the end of it into Nick's cranium and activated it a few times, delivering multiple shocks.

To Evelyn's immense relief, the jump-starting worked — blinking furiously and speaking in jumbled, dissonant voices, Nick sprang to life. It took a few moments for him to regain control of his consciousness; when he did, golden eyes looked up at Evelyn curiously. "What on earth happened? I… taste soap."

Evelyn blinked, staring at him while still holding the baton. "You can… taste things?"

"Not at all."

Finally Evelyn offered the baton back to Amari, sighing in relief and running a hand through her hair. Sensing her distress, Nick began hauling himself out of his lounger, still disoriented. "Well, no matter," he assured her. "Did you find anything useful?"

"Yes," she responded, still trying to take deep, calming breaths. She'd lost her husband, her son, Hancock… the thought of losing Nick too was too much to bear. "Let's go, Nick. Thank you, Doctor Amari," Evelyn continued, turning to the Indian woman and nodding gratefully to her. Helping Nick out of the Memory Den, Evelyn glanced over at where the Old State House used to be and was overcome with a fresh wave of sadness. Forcing herself out of it, she stopped quickly at Daisy's for some ammo; as she eyed a few frag grenades on a back shelf, she noticed the ghoul owner, Daisy, eyeing her shrewdly. Evelyn pursed her lips, feeling a weight in her chest. "Is this about last night?"

Daisy rose her browline. "No, you just have something on your face," she rasped, reaching out to pluck a suction cup from Evelyn's cheek.

The ravenette blinked once. "Well… uhm… speaking of last night… do you know what went down in the Rail?"

The ghoul tilted her head. "I wasn't there," she replied, "but I heard things got wild. Heard you were right in the middle of it. You're a hell of a scrapper, from what I hear. Maybe as good as ol' Hancock himself!"

Evelyn flinched, hearing the name. "D-Do you know if I…" she cleared her throat, trying to get rid of the lump that had suddenly formed there. "... s-said anything?"

Daisy's eyes narrowed. "You alright? You look like a damned ghost."

The ravenette fought back a wave of nausea and nodded, paying her caps. Despite all the action she'd had today, she still felt her hangover looming over her, her stomach turning every once in a while and her head still dully throbbing. Before leaving, she turned back to the other woman and bit her lip. "D-Daisy… could you… do me a favor?"

"Depends," the ghoul responded absent-mindedly.

"I-If you see… Hancock," the ravenette said with difficulty, "please… please tell him I…"

What could she say? That she was sorry? Fat load of good that would do. Sorry wouldn't cut it. Sorry wouldn't… "Nevermind," she whispered, blinking back tears and leaving the shop.

When she emerged out into the bright midday sun, Nick was waiting for her, standing in the shade and lighting up a cigarette. Evelyn's brows furrowed as she stuffed her ammo into her bag. "You… can smoke?"

"Force of habit more than anything," Nick replied, letting it burn for a moment before stubbing it out. "Part of my programming. Anyways, I heard you talking with Daisy; doing a bit of sleuthing of your own, eh? I figured things between you and Hancock weren't great, considering your behavior earlier."

Evelyn pursed her lips. Sensing her discomfort, the synth turned his bright yellow eyes on the gates of Goodneighbor and changed the subject. "Ready to hit the road? We'll be at Fort Hagen in about a day or so. And then…"

"... then I kill that fucking bastard," Evelyn finished, hand instinctively going into her pocket to grasp at the ring that remained there, safe and sound —

— her eyes widened. Feeling the thick gold band, or lack of, Evelyn felt her heart drop into her feet as the memories of the night before came rushing back one by one. Suddenly it was all so vividly, painfully clear what had happened, what had been said, that she began gasping for breath and clutching at her chest. "Woah there —" Nick exclaimed, reaching to pull one of her arms over his shoulders for support. "Let's go sit down —"

"N — No —" The ravenette protested, feet glued to the ground. As she caught her breath, the synth stared at her with analytical golden eyes, his lips pursed into a thin line.

"I'm guessing you've had an epiphany," he commented quietly, seriously.

"He's gone," she whispered, breathless. "And I ran him off. I did say those things… I…"

Nick began assisting her to the gates of the settlement; as they left, emerging into the Boston Commons, he said, "tell me the story, Mrs. Pressley. It'll take your mind off the hangover."

"What did I tell you about calling me that?" Evelyn countered, not unkindly. Still, hearing that last name combined with remembering the night before stung more than she had been prepared for.

Nate...

"Another whiskey, Charlie," Evelyn said as she approached the bar, still grinning from ear to ear. In fact, she couldn't seem to force the smile off her face no matter how hard she tried.

"Been making friends, huh?" The Mister Handy asked as he deftly took a glass from the shelf behind him and filled it with golden brown liquid. "Looks like you're more than a pretty face after all. I guess."

Evelyn brushed off the insult, grin turning into an outright smirk. "Our favorite ghoul isn't the only one with charisma," she replied, "but having a pretty face helps."

"Who said he is my favorite ghoul?" the bartender mumbled, floating away into the supply room. From her spot at the bar she could hear him mumbling, "who said I tolerate anyone at all?"

Evelyn sat back and sipped happily at her whiskey, riding the high she'd gained when Hancock had given her some Jet a few minutes before. She could still feel his touch lingering on her waist, and his taste tingling her lips, all smoke and bourbon and pine. Silver eyes lifted to check in on the ghoul, and a smile curled her lips as she watched him horse around with Fahrenheit and a few other drifters. Whatever story he was telling, it was animated, and he seemed to be getting along on his injured leg remarkably well; but then again, perhaps the copious amounts of drugs he was on helped a bit. A female ghoul came up to the bar and started up a conversation shortly after, but Evelyn kept an eye on the mayor the whole time, enjoying the fact that he was having so much fun.

Then the guilt settled in. He looked so happy here, amongst all his old comrades, especially Fahrenheit; sure, he was the one to request to come with her, but how could she keep him away from this place? This place he called home?

Then she remembered something he'd said to her one night during their travels: "I'm startin' to think that home is just wherever you are, Sister."

Evelyn smiled into her drink, finished it off, and raised her glass for another, despite feeling light-headed from the alcohol-Jet combination. She probably shouldn't; she should probably head back to the Rexford and get a good night's sleep so she could set out with Nick the moment he got here.

But something about Jet loosened all the ravenette's inhibitions and she found herself eagerly tucking into her fifth glass of whiskey. This time, when her eyes lifted to glance in Hancock's direction, she found a petite blonde woman sauntering up to the group. She wasn't Irma, thank the heavens; she was some drifter, but despite the dirt smudged on her cheeks, she was blonde, and she was cute. Evelyn tried not to let her stomach clench, instead keeping her composure and simply watching from afar. The blonde seemed to have eyes only for Hancock, speaking directly to him. Evelyn couldn't tell what she was saying, but there was a playful look on her face and she brought a hand up to brush the ghoul's shoulder.

Well, Evelyn thought wryly, Hancock's ghoul status certainly isn't setting him back in the dating realm.

Hancock of course, being the charismatic leader he was, took this all in stride and graciously accepted her affection while keeping his own distance. He certainly knew how to let someone down without hurting their feelings; the only downside to a strategy like that was that some people might not be perceptive enough to take the hint.

And apparently, this girl wasn't. She leaned in closer to him, her smile broadening; Evelyn noticed that while he wasn't pushing her off, Hancock's hands had either remained in his pockets or in the air. He hadn't touched her at all. And for some reason, that had the ravenette at the bar smiling once again. No wonder she'd fallen so hopelessly for this man…

That thought immediately sobered her up and Evelyn's jaw clenched in anxiety. How could she say something like that? What would Nate think of her…? Loving another man when she should be finding her — their son?

"Ey," a gruff voice said from her left, "yer that woman who brought the Super Mutants to Goodneighbor, aren't ya?"

The question caught the woman off-guard. She barely broke her gaze from Hancock to glance at the dirty human drifter in confusion. "Brought the… you mean the Super Mutant attack? That was six months or more ago. Why do you think I did it?"

She couldn't help it; her eyes returned to the scene where the blonde woman continued to harass Hancock. The drifter beside her grunted angrily. "Yeh, happened six months ago, and we're still rebuilding from it. And it's all because of you! I remember! They showed up after you did!"

"That's a coincidence, you blithering idiot," Evelyn countered, trying to keep her voice even. Don't let anger get the best of you. "Listen, I'm not here to cause trouble, okay?"

"Not here to cause trouble, eh?! Then why did you bring the Super Mutants here to destroy the town, you bitch?!"

Evelyn at that point barely heard him; her ears were still ringing from what she'd just witnessed. That little blonde drifter… in the middle of her conversation with Hancock, she'd thrown her arms around him and kissed him. It was clear the ghoul was tense and didn't respond in kind, but the sight, for some reason unbeknownst to the ravenette, made her blood boil. Something inside her snapped and she turned in her seat, gently set her half-empty glass of whiskey on the counter…

… then wheeled around and sucker-punched the accusatory drifter in the face. He stumbled back, cradling a bloody nose, eyes wide as if he couldn't believe such a hit came from her.

Then the rage took over, and he was coming at her full force. Evelyn was swaying on her feet at this point, but her battle instinct was so second nature to her that she was able to (clumsily) duck under his incoming swing and back-hand him roughly with the full force of her arm, sending him sprawling.

Perhaps it was the drunkenness of most of the patrons at the bar. Maybe this drifter was a beloved figure in Goodneighbor, although Evelyn doubted that. It may have even just been something in the air. But within seconds half the bar was up on their feet and taking swings at one another, and quite a few of them were coming at Evelyn; all of which she gave right back with all she had. She, however, only had one face in her mind: the face of that little blonde drifter woman. She sought her out, beat her to the ground with very little resistance, and continued bloodying the other woman until a strong pair of arms dragged her off. Immediately she began struggling, protesting in an angry drunken slur.

"I should be used to you leaving a trail of bodies in your wake," a voice said in her ear, sounding both upset and amused. "C'mon, Sister, take a breather. She didn't hurt anyone."

Evelyn felt herself grow slightly less tense in Hancock's grasp. Perhaps the alcohol had gone sour in her belly, or maybe her body just didn't agree anymore with the Jet he'd given her… but she still felt anxious. Like she had to fight her way out of here or she'd die and never find Shaun. Attempting to take some deep breaths, she felt Hancock's arms loosen around her, turning her to face him. His dark eyes, cloudy with drugs as they were, were reassuring. "Feelin' any better?"

Evelyn couldn't seem to manage an answer, but her hand instinctively went into her pocket to grasp at the little golden ring that took residence there. It was Nate's ring… her only memento left of him. It always seemed to calm her hurting heart whenever she needed it most.

Problem was, she fumbled around in her pocket repeatedly, but it wasn't there. And with each passing second, the ravenette could feel her chest growing heavier and heavier, lungs constricting until she felt like she couldn't breathe. The ring… it was gone.

Gone, gone, gone… Evelyn felt herself spiraling out of control — until a set of hands brought her back to reality and she found Hancock in her blurred vision. Raging guilt might've been to blame, or maybe the alcohol and drugs. The panic. Who knew. But Evelyn felt that 'snap' once more and she found herself wrenching out of the ghoul's grasp, eyes wide with fury, filled with tears. "It's YOUR fault!" she roared, her own voice sounding unfamiliar as it came out. Some of the fighting had died down, but while a few of the patrons were still duking it out, others had stopped to listen to her tirade.

Hancock looked utterly shocked; but she blindly went on, driven by pure, raw emotion. "I wish I'd never MET you!" Evelyn screamed, pointing an accusing finger at the ghoul as she stumbled backwards toward the steps. "Then… then I wouldn't have lost it! This never would have happened! Shaun… Nate… I… YOU'VE RUINED EVERYTHING!"

She began stumbling up the steps, sobbing audibly, until her legs gave out and her vision went black.

Nick pursed his lips, saying nothing. Evelyn wiped fresh tears, trying not to throw up as she sat on a crumbling bench weakly. "... Did you ever see if anyone found the ring? Perhaps Charlie picked it up off the floor when cleaning up the remains of your little escapade."

The phrase 'little escapade' made Evelyn feel like a child, but honestly — she'd acted like one. Perhaps this immense self-torture was just punishment for the horrible things she'd said to Hancock. "No," she croaked, putting her face in her hands.

Nick set a reassuring hand on her knee, still crouched in front of her. "We'll give the place a look-see once we get back," he said calmly. "For now, we've gotta get to Fort Hagen. I'm glad you were able to find out where Kellogg was without getting our canine friend into this mess. Don't worry; we'll make things right again. Now — let's get back on track. Are you ready to face Kellogg...?"

Hearing that name got the ravenette's mind back on the task at hand, and her face hardened, tears seeming to stop in their tracks. Hands clenched into fists and silver eyes narrowed in anger — hatred, even. "Let's murder that bastard," she said, voice astonishingly calm, and stood up.

Then the pair went on, picking their way through Boston and heading directly west. It would take about a day to get there, give or take, and Evelyn had to force herself to keep a moderate pace to conserve energy. She'd need all she had when she got there; knowing Kellogg, the cowardly bastard, he wouldn't come straight out for a fight. She imagined that she'd have an army of synths to get through to face him.

But she'd face ten armies if it would help her find her son.

The journey had been stalled only a couple of times, and Evelyn and Nick made a good team; they took care of the Raiders, Gunners and occasional Super Mutants that stood in their way, using ammo sparingly and avoiding battle if at all possible. Evelyn tried to keep her mind from bouncing back and forth between her three greatest worries: finding Shaun, killing Kellogg, and her screw-up with Hancock. Shielding her eyes and glancing over at Nick as they made their way out of Boston with the afternoon sun at their front, the ravenette asked, "so where exactly were you, Nick?"

Nick hesitated in answering. There was an uncertain look on his face that was especially bothersome considering his usual self-assured gait. "I was… delayed, and I apologize for that, my friend," he replied softly.

Evelyn's brows furrowed. "I'm not angry." Lie. Or, was a lie. She wasn't angry anymore; but she was worried. "Nick, was it something important? After we deal with Kellogg… I… maybe I can help you. It's the least I could do."

Nick ground his teeth, yellow eyes looking around diligently for any potential threats. "... I was on the coast," he finally said. Evelyn's brows shot up and she stared at him as they walked, taken aback. Ellie had lied? Silence reigned as she waited for an explanation. Finally, he gave one: "I was meeting an old friend. Name's Kenji Nakano; his daughter has… gone missing."

"I'm sorry, Nick," Evelyn sympathized, frowning.

"That's not what worries me so much," the synth said, shaking his head. "He told me his daughter, Kasumi, took the family boat and may have gone to a place called Far Harbor."

The tone of his voice when uttering the name of the town gave Evelyn a bad feeling. What had Nick so afraid of Far Harbor? What about it placed such worry in his golden eyes? The ravenette voiced her concerns and Nick's expression grew more grim, if that was even possible. "Far Harbor is an island off the coast," he explained. "It's… not a fun place. The people there are wary and cold, and if you go into the Fog… well, let's just say you'll find more than you bargained for."

Evelyn felt like that wasn't the whole story — like there was something Nick wasn't telling her… but perhaps she could corner him another time. A somewhat sly grin curled her lips as she said, "so Ellie lied for you, huh? I wonder what other things she'd do for you, Nick?"

If synths could blush, he very well might've been at that moment. It was pretty often that Evelyn teased him about Ellie — and Nick got embarrassed everytime. This time was no exception, apparently, as he ground his teeth in thought again and refused to answer her. The ravenette nudged the detective beside her, still grinning. "Come on, Nick, it's obvious she's crazy about you. Who says you can't find love in the wasteland?"

"I don't think this old bucket of bolts was built for that kind of thing, Evelyn," he finally managed, his voice sounding much calmer than his body language. It was difficult to knock Nick Valentine off his game — if someone insulted him, he shot one right back; if he was given a problem, he could find a solution; if he was faced with insurmountable odds, he'd overcome them with a clever catchphrase.

One subject that consistently made him fall short: Ellie.

It was clear the detective had a major soft spot for his assistant, but something was holding him back. Despite Nick's easy-going nature and his casual way of talking about his status as a synth, Evelyn suspected he truly felt like his being a synth meant he couldn't love. Couldn't be loved. Which was a load of crap, but the mind worked in mysterious ways. "You really should just tell Ellie how you feel one day," Evelyn said, a bit more seriously. "Soon, probably — because eventually… it might be too late."

Oceans

I want you

Yeah I want you
And nothing comes close
To the way that I need you
I wish I can feel your skin
And I want you
From somewhere within

It feels like there's oceans
Between me and you once again
We hide our emotions
Under the surface and try to pretend
But it feels like there's oceans
Between you and me

Upon leaving the Rail, Hancock had spent the next hour high beyond belief, drifting in and out of consciousness. He couldn't remember the last time he'd gotten this wasted. To the point where he barely had control over his own senses. He saw little fireflies dancing on the ceiling as his eyes cracked open, his body limply hanging in a chair. The penthouse on the top floor of the Rexford had once been a safe space for him, a drug haven of sorts; but now, ever since other memories had become associated with it, the room simply felt… empty.

Still, it was better than sitting out in the street.

Fahrenheit came in, toting a bottle of clear liquid he knew wasn't water and taking puffs of a cigarette. Sitting down on the floor near his chair, she propped her back against the wall and began switching back and forth between drinking and smoking, all while staring across the room. The pair remained in silence for a few minutes until Hancock spoke, voice a quiet rasp. "'I wish I never met you.' She said that to me."

"Yup."

Hancock continued idly counting the fireflies on the ceiling, which by now he was certain were figments of his imagination, considering they all had purple fairy wings. "Somethin' about that just doesn't sit right with me. Ya feel?"

"Mhmm."

A lazy finger gestured to the ceiling. "You see the fireflies up there?"

"Nope."

Hancock held a hand out for the bottle, and the ginger beside him passed it up silently. "She said I was a good man. Now why the boot-lickin' goddamn fuck would she go and say shit like that after… after the way she…?" He took a long drink, desperate to feel the everclear burn his throat.

"She was scared."

Fahrenheit's reply broke the ghoul from the bottle and he stared at the wall in surprise. "Scared?"

"Yeah. Scared." The raider forcefully took the bottle back.

"... Scared."

Fahrenheit took a drag of her cigarette. Hancock continued staring, the wheels in his brain turning fervently. "She'd been searchin' for something before she said it… and there was this… this look on 'er face…" he trailed off, taking a deep breath. "So you're saying she was sayin' all that outta guilt and panic. She'd lost something important to her… and I bet she's been feelin' all sorts of guilt over how long it's been taking to find her son… you're sayin' I should let bygones be bygones, Fahr… right?"

"Sure," she mumbled, taking another puff.

Hancock sat up, suddenly feeling much more alert than before. He wasn't sure he'd ever come out of a high so fast. Though the haze was still present in the back of his mind, the ghoul wiggled all his appendages and found he had full control. Furthermore, that stuff Doctor Amari had given him was apparently a fuckin' miracle — his leg felt almost good as new. "Fahr, maybe I'm high as shit, but I think I've gotta go get 'er," he said, eyes wide.

Fahrenheit finally shifted her eyes away from the wall. "Do you even know where to find her?"

"No fuckin' clue," the ghoul replied, getting to his feet and gathering his chem stash from the bedside table. Only the raider's voice stopped him as he crossed the room to the door.

"Try the last place she was gonna go. Memory Den, right?"

"You're a goddamn genius," he replied with a nod, about to make his way out the door. Fahrenheit's voice stopped him one more time; this time, Hancock looked back at her in mild surprise.

Her face was deadpan, voice soft. "You've changed, John. For the better, I think."

A smile curled his scarred lips… then he left the room, filled with new purpose.

Leaving the Memory Den, Hancock loaded two shells into his shotgun, made sure it was pumped and ready to use, and made a beeline for the front gates. Amari had admonished him for wanting to travel so far on his newly-healed leg, but he calmly and firmly told her she'd have to kill him if she wanted to stop him. Evelyn was about to take on one of the most brutal killers in the entire Commonwealth, and he'd be damned if he was going to let one mistake stop him from helping her. According to the doctor, the ravenette had left with Nick about four hours ago; he'd have to cover a helluva lot of lost ground to catch up with them.

Just as he approached the gates, he heard a raspy voice calling after him. "Hancock! Hancock!" Glancing back, he saw Daisy leaning out of her shop window. "Leaving already? Thought you'd be staying a while!"

Tilting his head, the ghoul peered at the shop-owner, dark eyes curious. "Now what gave ya that idea?"

Daisy said nothing, leaning back inside her shop and making herself busy counting grenades. Hancock knew the fem ghoul's guilty look when he saw it, and holy shit she looked guilty. Like she knew something she wasn't supposed to. Heading over to the brick building, he leaned over the counter, staring at her back. "Was it just a… gut feelin', Daisy?" he persisted in a playful tone.

"Listen, that girl from outta town told me to tell you something if I saw you, so I just guessed that you two were splitting ways," she replied almost sheepishly, still counting.

Hancock's brow line creased. "Wait… what did she want you to tell me?" the ghoul pressed. "Daisy — come on. Who's your favorite mayor?"

"Fahrenheit," she responded evenly and immediately, but finally turned away from the stock shelves to face him. "She — she didn't actually say anything. I've got no message for ya. But I can tell you there were tears in her eyes. I don't know what happened between you and that lady, but she's damn sorry. I… I think that was what she wanted to say."

Hancock paused, staring at the other ghoul for a long moment, before his scarred lips curled into a slow smile. "Thanks, Daisy. And —" as he leaned off the counter, he pointed an accusing finger at her, " — don't tell me that damn raider is really your favorite?"

"Get out of here," the woman scolded, shooing him away. Hancock stared at the gates, tested full weight on his newly-healed leg, and cracked his neck.

Then he left. It felt like there were oceans in between them; but he'd close that distance, whatever it took.