"Are you serious? You're calling the dog Wingnut?" Sturges raised a disbelieving eyebrow at her choice of names.
Bet smiled sheepishly. "He…he…uh…looked like a 'Wingnut' to me."
Rowdy chuckled and scratched the lazy dog behind its ears. "I dunno. It's better than 'Fang' or 'Ripper' at any rate."
Sturges threw up his hands in defeat. "Fine, looks like I'm outnumbered, but riddle me this; are the Gunners more likely to be scared when you call for 'Wingnut', or when you call for 'Ripper'?"
Rowdy choked on her beer in her efforts contain her laughter. "Damn, I can just imagine it. 'Sic 'em Wingnut'!" The dog snorted at her, which made her start giggling so hard that beer came out of her nose. She cursed, but she was still laughing herself silly.
Bet edged a bowl of food towards the hound. "Wingnut is very fearsome. They will learn to fear his wrath." She smiled to herself. "But, maybe you're right." She bit her lip as she thought hard to come up with a better name. "How does the name 'Gamble' sound?" Sturges and the others agreed that anything was a better name than 'Wingnut', and so the dog was gifted with a name. Sturges even etched a strip of leather with the dog's new name and made it into a collar.
During their final couple of days with the Atom Cats Roxy and Rowdy taught her a few useful mod tricks for power armor, which she was grateful to learn. Zeke was more than happy to consider selling her moonshine and to have her help with organizing the stock for a trade. Only a single provisioner visited the entire time she was there, so she could clearly see that they were in need of business. Zeke loved to teach her the 'language of cool' whenever possible, so he spoke to her in dialog heavy with greaser slang. The consistent exposure successfully ingrained his kookie speech into her mind, so that she found herself using it more casually.
Duke and Johnny D. were always patrolling, but made sure to take turns teaching her to defend herself better. Duke even showed her the proper way to use her combat knife. "Put your thumb up here, and curl your other fingers just like this." He positioned her pointer finger so that it was about half an inch further up the grip. "Keep your arm straight and jab out." He fixed her arm's position. "No, bring your arm down. Keep it close to your body to make your strikes smooth and quick. Don't give anyone the chance to grab your wrist or arm." She thrust the knife into the air a couple of times. "Yeah, that's great! You just need to keep your palm facing up on the strike and give it a twist at the end before you pull it back in." She did as she was told and he gave her a congratulatory slap on the back. "Awesome, now I'll show you how to counter it if someone else has the knife." He went on to teach her wrist-locks and further moves on unarmed versus armed combat. To her, it was wonderful to get a chance to learn almost everything she'd been denied access to while living in ignorance within the walls of Vault 81.
On the final night before they were set to leave, she grew despondent. Despite her love for Goodneighbor, she wished she could stay with her new friends. Her only consolation was Sturges' promise to return in the coming months. These visits weren't exactly to become commonplace, but he had enjoyed it as much as she had, if not more. Zeke, in an effort to raise some spirits, set up a race to send them off. Seven laps around the junkyard later, and Roxy tripped the finish line's flamethrowers only a second ahead of Zeke.
They celebrated by cracking open all the beers and grilling up some Radstag steaks. That evening, however, it was high time for the pair to leave. Everyone shook hands and gave hearty goodbyes, but Gamble didn't seem to understand that Bet needed to leave. He guarded the chain-link fence right by the entrance and whined loudly every time Bet or Sturges approached it. Bet bent down to pet the pooch along its back. "Hey, we'll be back." She told him in a soothing voice.
Yet, when they tried again to leave, the dog stepped in their way. Sturges chuckled and scratched it under its chin. "Seems like he wants to come with us." The dog barked playfully and wagged its tail. "I don't think it'd hurt if we took him along." Gamble danced in a circle and pawed at Sturges's boot.
Bet hoped that they weren't dragging the dog along to its death. "Okay, but I'd feel terrible if he gets shot again." Once the dog seemed to realize that it really was coming along for the ride, it ceased its attempts to stop them from leaving.
While nothing bad happened to the dog, their trip was uncomfortable; a radstorm had blown in not even a quarter of the way to Diamond City. It was hard for Bet to start taking rads again so soon after getting moderate radiation poisoning for Hancock's sake. Sturges didn't know exactly why she was lagging so far behind him nor did he hear her stop to empty the contents of her stomach behind a destroyed vending machine. She'd known that her recent sickness wasn't going to make this trip easier for her, so she kept quiet. Fatigue gripped her tightly even as she forced down a dose of Radaway. Unwilling to give up its hold upon the Commonwealth, the radstorm raged for a greater majority of the hike. Green fog hung low to the ground, while darker clouds swirled like the coils of glowing snakes above their heads. Echoing clashes of lightning in the distance made the air stink of ozone.
She was weak. The muscles of her entire body were constantly tensing and relaxing in turns, while her jaw couldn't keep still. She was freezing. Anxiety twisted her insides into knots, while it felt like her lungs were too small to take in the proper amount of oxygen. These were symptoms of a problem she'd been told to watch out for, but she had no choice. She knew her reactions to chems were gradually intensifying, but there was nothing she could do about it. Her eyes flicked up to Sturges, he was now about twenty yards ahead, and she felt more hopeless than ever. How could she have ever presumed to survive at all? She was sickly and weak. She had no more hope of survival than a fish in a desert. She stumbled and nearly fell, but another voice yelled at her that she had to get back up. It sounded remarkably similar to Hancock or maybe she was just that delirious.
Sturges could sense now that something was very wrong. Bet was falling farther and farther behind. Gamble was beside her, pacing around her and whimpering. He stopped to wait for her and noticed that she was slightly staggering on her feet as if she'd had too much to drink. He yelled out her name, but she said nothing back. He ran up just in time to catch her as she tripped heavily over a chunk of asphalt. "What's wrong?" She'd been fine only a little while before.
She nearly bit off her own tongue trying to say something back. She tasted bile in her throat and her own mouth felt heavy on her face. Her tongue was thick and seemed to stick to the roof of her mouth, but he seemed to understand that he needed to get her out of the storm. She wouldn't ever be able to recall him dragging her into the safety of a dilapidated building.
Sturges had never dealt with anything like this before. She was awake, but confused and feverish. Whenever her eyes landed on him, he knew that she didn't really see him. He'd never witnessed her have a reaction like this before. The radstorm passed after a time, and that helped. She was still shaking like a leaf and gasping for air, but she was sensible again. "What the hell happened?" He asked her when she could finally speak without taking a bite out of her tongue.
"My…allergy. I've grown more sensitive to the chems." She chugged another can of purified water. "I-I should have seen it coming…I've been taking a lot more chems than I had to before."
He watched as she coughed and tried to clear her swollen throat. "You nearly gave me a heart attack." He clearly wasn't pleased. "Next time, don't push yourself so hard. We don't need another friend on her deathbed."
She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "I didn't think of it that way. I didn't want to slow us down on our way back." She felt guilty for worrying him and Gamble. Gamble pushed his head under her shaking hand and lay down beside her.
He slid down the wall without another word and pulled out a tiny circuit board to mess with. She watched him for a while. He took out the tiniest screwdriver she'd ever seen and a minuscule wrench from the zipper on the front of his utility overalls. She couldn't make heads or tails of what he was trying to do or why he was doing it, but it was calming to watch him work. He exuded an aura of peace that seeped into her. Her heart calmed its erratic pace eventually, but her skin still felt tight and there was an irritating itch in her palms. She scratched her hands and mentally bemoaned her situation. If it wasn't one thing, it was another. The itching grew more intense and the hives started to crop up. She coughed hard because of the tickle in her throat and broke his concentration, which made him notice the splotches now covering her skin. "Is your reaction getting worse?"
She sighed and rubbed her hands hard on her jeans. "No, no. It's just –ahem-" She cleared her throat hard as her voice was being affected by her reaction. "Excuse me, sorry. I'm just super itchy."
He tucked the circuit board away into the safety of his chest pocket along with the tools. "Don't ya think you're a bit delicate to be traveling around like you do? You know, considering your allergy and all."
She crossed her arms and ducked her head. "It's not exactly avoidable, you know. I have to do some things on my own. Plus, everything has a little radiation in it nowadays. I've gotten used to the rashes. It's something I'll just have to live with if I don't feel like dying of radiation poisoning or letting a bullet wound get infected." She brushed the splotches that dotted her arms. "Besides, these go away after a couple of hours. Pre-war Rad-X or Radaway give me a stronger reaction, but something about homebrewed anti-rad chems doesn't affect me as badly. I usually try to pack the homemade stuff, so I should be fine."
Concern was still etched into his face. "Is there something I could do?"
She smiled and shook her head. "That's sweet of you. Trust me, I just have to grin and bear it for a couple of hours." She extended her arm to show him. Half of her skin was normal and the other was covered in cap-sized, inflamed patches. He took her arm and looked it over to make sure that everything seemed okay. "What was the thing you were playing with?" She said to change the topic.
"It's a military-grade circuit board. Loads of stuff use 'em, but the one I have with me is somethin' special." He patted his chest pocket gently. "It'll be for a special type of missile turret I'm workin' on." He grinned widely. "A mini-nuke turret; I have to re-calibrate it to make it compatible with….." He laughed quietly at the lost expression on her face. "It's gotta be able to talk to the terminal I'm gonna hook up to it, and then we'll be able to scare the livin' shit out of anything from your common mole rat to a super mutant behemoth."
"Hopefully, a mini-nuke would do more than just scare a mole rat." She joked. She jumped up and grabbed her rucksack. "We still have to drop by Diamond City, so we should get going if we wanna make it back to Goodneighbor at a decent hour." She squinted against the brightness of the noon-day sun.
Sturges made sure to keep an ear out for the ticking of her Geiger counter from that point on. A person with a disconcerting lack of regard for her own health was clearly not someone who was fit for long journeys. He found himself wishing she'd stayed in Goodneighbor; pangs of worry hit him whenever he caught sight of the angry welts on her skin. His heart nearly stopped when she had a coughing fit that made him fear her throat was closing up. She caught her breath and closed her eyes for a moment. He touched her back to silently ask if she was alright. She quickly straightened and hid her weakness with a smile. Her wheezy pants haunted their steps for hours, but eventually her breathing seemed to even out and he was able to feel more at ease.
They made it to Diamond City's gate and Bet, just as she'd expected, was stopped by the guards. She scowled at him. "Look, lady." He leaned on his bat. "It's not my call. You're a troublemaker and we can't have troublemakers in Diamond City."
Her eyes narrowed with anger. "Oh, I suppose that means that innocent ghouls are troublemakers, too?"
The guard muttered something under his breath. "Enough with the bleedin' heart bullshit, you're not getting in and that's final. Now, you can either wait here peacefully while your friend does his business or we could put a bullet in your ass. It doesn't matter to me." He glared at Gamble, who was growling low in his throat. "An' keep that rotting mutt away from me."
Sturges stepped between the two just as she opened her mouth to further protest. "Hey, let's all just calm down here, alright? Chill out, man. She's not gonna cause any trouble." He hooked his arm around her shoulders and casually pulled her close. He didn't much like how easily the guard spoke of hurting her, but he didn't have a choice in leaving her outside with him. He met the other man's eyes with a hint of challenge. "We'll have no problems if she stays out here, will we?"
The guard, who stood a bit less than half a foot shorter than the mechanic, stepped back. "None at all." He grumbled.
Sturges' easy smile returned to its typical place. "Well, alright. See ya in a bit, troublemaker." He smirked and leaned down so that the guard couldn't hear what he had to say. "Try not to piss off the square, okay?" He patted her shoulder and ran inside.
Bet leaned against the wall and took out a packet of gumdrops to give her a spot of energy. Whenever her allergies acted up, she tended to feel quite tired afterward and in want of a nap. Instead, she'd have to make do with processed sugar. The guard kept a watchful eye on her for about fifteen minutes, but he eventually returned to his post when it became clear that she intended to do nothing except stand there and eat. She yawned widely and sat down on a conveniently placed crate. The loud puttering of the turrets faded away. Her blinks were growing longer, and soon she found herself nodding off. She jerked up and away from the crate; sitting down was obviously no longer an option. She couldn't allow herself to fall asleep for obvious reasons.
More than forty-five minutes later, Sturges jogged back out of the city and Bet perked up. "How does she look?"
He beamed brightly. "Not bad for a woman who was bombed and then shot, I'd say. She's still in rough shape, but she was well enough to chew me out for slogging out to Goodneighbor while I was hurt." His face fell a little. "Nick said that he went to the mayor's speech yesterday."
"And?" She prodded.
He winced as he anticipated her reaction. "The mayor basically said that what you four did was brave, but Diamond City can't risk its citizens by re-opening its doors to ghouls."
"WHAT?!" Her shout earned her the ire of the guard, who glared sternly at her. She glared back, but lowered her voice. "We risked our lives to save her ass and that's how she repays us? Please, tell me people aren't okay with that, even if she is the mayor."
"Several people ardently booed her at the speech, according to Nick, but the greater majority had applauded her decision. According to them, a normal ghoul could turn feral at any moment and pose a serious threat to everyone." He could tell the disappointment weighed heavily on her shoulders. Her plan to obtain justice for Jack and Marcy had failed rather spectacularly and she'd earned a lifetime ban from Diamond City to boot. She closed her eyes and turned away from him. "I can't believe it." She sounded utterly dejected. "My plan should've worked, goddamn it!" She slammed her fist against the wall. She stared at the wall with a reviled expression. She started kicking and punching it wildly. "WHY?! WHY?! WHY?!"
The guard had gotten up from his chair, but Sturges hauled her away before he reached them. "It's wrong, I know." He held her arms still at her sides. "We'll find another way, but we need to go now."
"Let me go, right now!" She commanded furiously. "I'm going to march in there and give that bigoted bitch a piece of my mind!"
"If we don't get going, you're going to have more than one piece to give her." He tugged her away from the guards had gathered nearby. "Listen to me, please." He pleaded as he escorted her far from the encroaching guards. "We'll go back to Goodneighbor and wait for Nora to heal. She'll boycott Diamond City by diverting all of her Minutemen provisioners. If they're hungry enough, the people will agree to anything."
His backup plan seemed to calm her rage, though she refused to speak until her anger had totally ebbed, which was not until they'd nearly walked through the rickety door of her adopted home. They immediately went to Hancock to give him the news. He took it about as well as was to be expected. He growled and smashed a few empty beer bottles against the wall. "Damn, I knew they'd fuck us over!"
Bet couldn't say the same; she'd held out hope for some reason. "Sturges said we could starve them of supplies. It might do the trick since obviously diplomacy has gotten us nowhere." They continued to discuss what to do about this new development well into the night. However, Sturges proposed to give it a rest after they'd been at it for two hours.
"You've sure been fightin' hard to get justice for that Jack fellow." Sturges opened the door for her and followed her back into her home. He'd be leaving soon, but he wanted to make sure she was absolutely okay. "I know it's none of my business, but did you know him and his wife or something?"
She stopped in her tracks, and was glad he couldn't see her blush. "No, he pulled a gun on me and got kicked out of Goodneighbor for it. I guess I kinda felt guilty for being the reason he's homeless." She played with a frayed string on her sleeve. "When I found out what happened to his wife….well, my dad always used to accuse me of finding excuses to take up this or that cause." She yanked hard on the string to snap it off. "I just want the world to be a better place. Maybe I am a bit of a 'bleeding heart' like that guard said, but I truly think this is the right thing to do."
He couldn't deny that she did tend to fight a bit harder than was necessary for the things she believed it, but at least she believed in something. There weren't many people with the spark in their jumper cables to go through the trouble she'd been willing to jump into. "If you ever need a break from all of this-" He made a broad, vague gesture around them. "You'll always be welcome to visit me back at Sanctuary." He smiled at her and gave her a friendly, one-armed hug. "Be good, troublemaker. I'll see ya around."
Bet lingered outside her front door for a few minutes to enjoy the cool night air. She heard soft footsteps coming down the street and looked up to see Hancock standing in the pool of light coming from the neon sign of Kill or Be Killed. His face was shrouded in the shadow of his tricorn. "Hey." He whispered and she could hear the mischief in his raspy voice. "You wanna just shoot the shit for a while?" He winked at her. "We ain't been doin' much talkin' outside of savin' people."
"I don't really feel like sleeping, I suppose." She admitted. He held out his hand and she took it without hesitation. They ducked into a nearby alley for a bit of privacy. One thing that still astounded her about this new world she'd stepped into was the beauty of the Commonwealth night sky. She could see every single star burning bright like a collection of campfires in a wide-open plain.
His eyes were bright enough to be stars themselves. He was watching her and smiling wolfishly. Her stomach did a weird flip while her heart felt like it was fit to burst from her chest. He was too close, much too close. When he finally spoke his voice was heavy with an emotion she could not understand. "You sure you got a minute to talk?"
She pulled his arm around her shoulders and smiled. "For you? Always."
He sucked in a breath. "You've done pretty well for yourself, doll. I'm a big fan of the 'pull yourself up by the bootstraps' type of attitude you've got goin' on." She shivered as the night's chill began to seep through her clothes. What was he trying to say? "Thing is…I've been thinkin' and I realized ya might've gotten the wrong idea about my expectations from you. Ya don't need to go around workin' yourself half to death to keep me as a friend. Hell, all I'm askin' from anyone here is to try not to be too much of an asshole."
She had no idea what he was talking about. "Hancock, where's all this coming from? I know I don't have to do any of the stuff I've been planning out. I told you the truth before when I said that I love what you've built here and I wanna do my part to help it grow into something even better."
"Babe, do ya even know how I made this town into what it is today?" It was a rhetorical question; he knew she didn't have a clue. He lit up a cigarette to calm his nerves. "When I first rolled into Goodneighbor, this place was being run into the ground by some asshole named Vic. He used us drifters like his own personal piggy bank and everybody was too damn yellow to do somethin' about it. He had this goon squad he'd use to keep us all in line and every once in a while he'd let 'em off the leash to go blow off some steam on the populace at large." He took a long drag off his smoke. "Folks with homes could lock their doors, but us drifters had it bad. There was one night…some drifter said somethin' to 'em and they cracked 'im open like a can of Cram on the pavement." His face was grim as he recounted the story. "Nobody did anything…not even me. Afterwards, I got so damn high that I blacked out."
She rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand. "It's not your fault. You were probably in shock. It can happen to anyone."
He finished the first cigarette, ground it out viciously with the heel of his boot, and lit up another. Jet would have done a hell of a lot more to ease his nerves, but he hated using chems in front of her. "When I finally came to, I was in the State House and starin' at the clothes of John Hancock; first American hoodlum and defender of the people. Those clothes spoke to me, so I smashed the case, put 'em on and started a new life…as Hancock. After that, I went clean for a bit…got organized… and managed to get KL-E-0 to lend me some hardware. Then, I rounded up a crew of drifters I trusted and we headed out into the wastes to train. Next time Vic let his boys out on a rampage, we'd be ready for them." Goddamnit, he was jonesin' for a bit of Jet, but he played it cool. He didn't want her to see how agitated he was in re-telling this old story.
She looked at him with an amused grin. "You…you don't actually think Hancock's clothes spoke to you, right?"
He laughed; it was a raspy sound like someone running their fingernails over old wood. "What? No. Why does everyone ask me that?" She gave him a look that told him he knew exactly why, but he just grinned at her and put out his cigarette. He didn't feel the need for Jet quite as bad now. "So, the night of, we all got loaded, let Vic's boys get good and hammered, and burst from the windows and rooftops where we'd been hiding. They never even saw it coming. We didn't have to fire a shot. We didn't have to. But we sure fuckin' did. It was a massacre. Once we'd mopped up, we strolled right into Vic's quarters in the State House, wrapped a rope around his neck, and threw him off the balcony." He spread his hands out in the air. "And there I am, gun in hand, draped in Hancock's duds, looking at all the people of Goodneighbor assembled below. I had to say something, but the first time I said 'em, they didn't even feel like my words; "Of the people, for the people" was my inaugural address. Became Mayor Hancock of Goodneighbor that day. And I vowed to myself I'd never stand by and watch ever again." He placed his hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eye. "I just wanted ya to know I'm not out to get anybody who didn't earn it. I know I upset ya a while back with the whole thing with the Deluca boy, but that guy was scum. He never deserved ya."
She turned her head away and her bright green eyes darkened at the mention of her abusive lover. "I forgave you for that ages ago, if you can recall." She rubbed her eyes to give her an excuse not to have to look at him. "I just couldn't figure out why you pulled a stunt like that."
Something beyond starlight flickered in his eyes and he moved even closer. He leaned so that his mouth was right in her ear. "When ya told me what he did to you…it pissed me off royally. I couldn't stand to hear you defend him. Every time ya talked about it, you made it seem like it was your fault. You never had a reason to feel guilty over any of the shit he did to you, but he twisted you up inside and I could see it. I wanted to do more than just break a few bones." She wanted to speak, but her mouth was dry, her mind was fuzzy, and her body was radiating heat from a fire that had started inside her chest. "It nearly drove me feral to see him drag you around that fuckin' vault like he owned ya." He growled to himself and hugged her close. "He'll never lay so much as a finger on you again."
Breathless, she managed to force herself to reply. "Hancock, have you been at the Mentats again?"
A shameless smirk was her answer. "You say that like ya don't know me, doll."
She forced herself to ask the question that was burning at the forefront of her foggy mind. "Does anyone really know anybody? You probably thought I was gonna get myself killed out here."
One of his hands made its way to the small of her back. "I won't deny I was about 80% sure you'd be pickin' your teeth out of a gutter by the second day, but I'm pretty damn glad I was wrong." He purred. "Gotta hand it to ya, you're tougher than you look." He stepped back and let his hands drop back to his sides, but it was harder for him to do that than it should have been. "So, you gonna tell me about your adventure? Been stuck back here this entire time takin' care of business an' all kinds of borin' shit."
She launched into the story with fervor; the encounter with the raiders on the bridge, the race, and the subsequent skirmish with the Gunners that had made her into an honorary Atom Cat. He listened intently the entire time. "And then, Gamble didn't want us to leave without him, so I had to bring him with us…so, yeah…I have a dog now."
"Can't say I won't sleep a little easier knowin' you've got more to protect ya than that tiny-ass pistol." He scratched Gamble behind the ears. "Guess you've got a way with ghouls, am I right?"
"He also works pretty well as a substitute if I forget my flashlight." She chuckled at her own joke.
Hancock rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "I was wonderin' if ya felt like comin' up to the State House tomorrow night." He said after he finished playing with her puppy. He hadn't had a relaxing night with her in weeks, but it felt like forever. Fahrenheit would be down at the Rail, but he didn't feel like sharing Bet's company anyway. He braced one hand against the brick wall behind her, but kept the other pressed against her lower back.
The bitter scent of Gray Tortoise cigarettes bit at the inside of her nose and, below that was a smell she couldn't quite place. It wasn't sweet, bitter, or salty, but a strange combination of all three. She could smell the hint of grape flavored Mentats on his breath, too. The overall effect was nice –so much better than having to deal with Bobby trying to steal a kiss when his breath reeked like Brahmin shit. She slid one hand up to rest on his right shoulder. She wanted dearly to touch his face, but she didn't dare to take it that far. There was something deep inside that recognized that she did want this, but she wasn't ready. She'd only just recently been able to face the fact that Bobby had caused the majority of the problems in their relationship. On the other hand, she sensed that there was something between her and Hancock –she wasn't an idiot, after all. If he was 'just' her friend, he wouldn't have let so many of his touches linger and he definitely wouldn't have her pressed up against a wall in an alley. If he was 'just' a friend, her heart wouldn't be trying to bust out of her ribcage nor would she pressing her legs together to soothe the ache that was growing between them.
"Cat got your tongue, babe?" His warm breath ghosted over the skin of her neck and made her shiver a little. Damn, she wasn't ready to take any risks, but he was making it so hard to keep a leash on her impulses. She caved a tiny bit and placed her other hand just below his collarbone. His fingers dug into the soft flesh of her back, but she wasn't about to complain.
She couldn't speak and she could barely think; it was exactly like being drunk. Her stomach even felt a bit fluttery, but that could have been just nerves. Her brain screamed for her to say something back because she was terrified he might just walk away if she didn't. "Y-ye-es." It came out broken and higher-pitched than she'd wished, but her jaw had finally worked itself loose. Her tongue felt leaden in her mouth.
He bent his head down and leaned his forehead against hers. His mouth tilted down at the edges in a slight frown. "You okay?" She looked torn between fear, anxiety, and desire. He was more than okay with the desire part, but the other two had him re-thinking his advances. Hancock decided to back off; he wasn't about to coerce her when she was obviously unsure. He was stopped only by her grip on his shoulder and her hand that had fisted in the material of his frock coat.
She was breathing a bit heavier now, but when she met his eyes again he could clearly see that she wanted him. "John, I-"
She was interrupted by a loud, metallic bang and the sounds of several people rushing by the alley. Confused, muffled voices were murmuring out in the street. Her arms fell to her sides and Hancock was freed from her grasp, but he cursed whatever goings-on had ruined the moment. They left the alley to investigate and found a thin grouping of people crouched around the unconscious, bloody body of a ghoul. Hancock weaved his way through the crowd and knelt down beside the ghoul to check for signs of life. A weight formed in his stomach when he recognized him as Jack. "Bet, go get Doctor Amari and tell her to bring a medkit!" He ordered in a hollow voice. The knees of his trousers were slowly becoming soaked with Jack's blood. This was entirely his fault; he should never have exiled Jack. His hands balled at his sides as a mix of rage and remorse flooded his system. He'd never despised himself more than at that very moment.
The crowd was dispersing a little at a time, and it was soon down to just Hancock and Daisy. Daisy knew her mayor almost as well as any of his closest friends and she could feel the pain rolling off of him. "You're not like him, John." Her raspy whisper broke the deadly silence. "You made sure he had a place in The Slog and plenty of ammo before he left. Hell, you made sure he left with a trader. You didn't just cast him out like they did at Diamond City and it wasn't supposed to be a permanent thing-"
Hancock was working hard at pumping Jack's chest in a crude attempt to give CPR. "Doesn't…matter…" He was getting out of breath. His heart was racing and the world was tinged with darkness around the edges as his own vision pulsated with his heartbeat. It looked like everything was alive and crawling over everything else –everything except Jack. He worked harder and tipped Jack's chin up to open up his airway. He opened Jack's mouth, placed his hand over the ghoul's mouth as a barrier, and started giving him breaths.
"John, ya look like you're gonna pass out." Daisy admonished in a firm, motherly voice. "Budge over and let me-"
"NO!" He snapped at her. "This is my fault!"
Daisy didn't even flinch. Instead, she pushed him to the side. "You need a shot of Calmex before ya workin' yourself into a fit of frenzy." She continued his work for him, but she was only needed for a couple more seconds before Amari arrived. Bet could see the plain distress scrawled all over Hancock's face, so she made a tactful decision to get him out of there. She hauled him up by his arm and pulled him back; he didn't struggle as hard as he could have, but that was only because he was afraid he'd accidentally hurt her if he did.
Daisy pushed herself up off of the cobblestone street and hurried over. She quickly assessed Hancock's frantic eyes and slipped a syringe of Calmex into Bet's pocket. "Take him into the State House. He's not going to be any help if we can't get him to start thinking straight again." She advised her solemnly.
"What's wrong? Why's he acting this way?" Bet puffed hard as he tried to pull away from her. She had her arms wrapped around his upper arms and she was dragging him resolutely toward the side door of the State House.
Daisy rubbed a worn hand over her worried face. "He'll tell you that when he's ready. You just need to get him away from all of this."
"Let me go, Bet. I don't wanna hurt ya." Hancock growled down at her. He wasn't angry with her, but she was getting in his way. One of his flailing elbows caught her right in the solar plexus just as they reached the top step and it knocked the wind out of her. She let go with a gasp and fell hard to her knees. He took off with only a short glance over his shoulder to check to see if she was alright. A large part of him felt awful for doing it, but another part of his mind was railing at him for basically sentencing Jack to death. "Amari!" He caught the doctor as she and Daisy were loading Jack up on to an old-as-fuck gurney to get him down to her office in the Memory Den. "What the hell is wrong with him?"
Daisy sighed and shook her head; she should have known Bet wouldn't be able to hold on to Hancock if he really wanted to break free. "Multiple lacerations and contusions." Amari replied in a short tone. "He has quite a few that are extremely deep and if I didn't know better…" She frowned at her patient. "If I didn't know better, I would have said that he was operated on, but that's impossible. There are very few people in the Commonwealth with the skill to do that." She looked up from Jack's prone body. "He is breathing now, thanks to you and Daisy. However, I would advise you to leave it to me to take care of him."
Daisy grabbed her mayor's shoulder and steered him in the opposite direction. "You are going to go back there and apologize for doin' whatever ya did to make Bet let go of you. She was just tryin' to help ya. Behave yourself, young man, and leave the rest to us." She shoved him away and slammed the Memory Den's double doors shut.
Bet had caught her breath by the time he returned. She was rubbing her side and wincing. "You have really sharp elbows." She felt the area gingerly with her fingertips before she pulled up her shirt and grimaced at the bruise that was already forming there. He kept his distance while she picked tiny shards of stone out of the scrapes on her knees. "I'm not mad." He gave her a skeptical look and she crossed her arms. "Okay, I'm kinda mad, but I'm going to sit here and listen to your explanation." She glared at him. "It had better be a very good explanation."
He had a nagging feeling that, depending on how he put a spin on things, their entire friendship could crash and burn or she'd be willing to forgive and forget. He hoped like hell it would be the latter. "I didn't want to hurt ya." He started off sheepishly.
"Yeah, I got that part." She sighed. "The point is; you did and I want to know why. I know you, John. Now please stop stalling and tell me what had you so freaked out."
He fiddled with the tattered edge of his frock. "It…reminded me of what happened in Diamond City." He told her hesitantly. He saw her confused look and remembered he hadn't told her a lot about his life before Goodneighbor. "I grew up in Diamond City in a little shack on the waterfront. I had a standard big brother; the punchy, entitled type who loved to shove rotten tatos down my shirt and slap my back. All in all, I thought we had a pretty good childhood, but then he decided he wanted to get elected." His eyes narrowed slightly as he brought back to that disturbing moment. "He went on this anti-ghoul crusade…guess he thought the assholes in the Upper Stands would vote for him if he did."
"That's sick, who does something like that?" Her mouth was pinched in disgust.
He went on. "Not sure if it was really him back then or if it was his synth replacement." He backed up a bit because he realized he'd gotten ahead of himself. "Anyway, I stormed into his office, but he just said 'I did it, John. I finally did it.' And then he smiled. It was this hideous, mile-long smile. That fuckin' smile was plastered all over his fat face while he watched his 'citizens' drag people they used to call neighbor out of their homes to throw 'em out into the ruins."
"Wait, so he threw you out, too? His own brother?" She looked horrified.
"Nah, I wasn't a ghoul back then, so I didn't have to leave." He gritted his teeth to keep his anger under control. "I knew I couldn't stay in that cesspool any longer, though, so I found a few of the families and brought them to Goodneighbor. I'd been sneakin' off to Goodneighbor for years to get decent chems, so I knew all the safe routes. Most of them just couldn't get used to the Goodneighbor lifestyle and they just…disappeared. Whoever that bastard was, he signed those people's death warrants…him and that whole damned city."
"What do you mean by 'whoever that bastard was'? I thought he was your brother?" Her eyes widened as she pieced the clues together. "You think he was replaced?"
He looked away. "Not sure if he was replaced around the time he ran for the election or if he really was guilty of murderin' those ghouls. It's…hard to think about it. I never thought he was capable of doin' something like that, so maybe…" He closed his eyes and sighed heavily. "Anyway, he was replaced at some point. His replacement nearly murdered your friend Danny after Nora nuked the Institute."
She frowned hard. "Danny never mentioned anything about that. Granted, I guess we didn't have much time for an in-depth conversation." She rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "So, you're saying that you've equated your temporary ban on Jack to throwing innocent people out." She laced her fingers together in her lap. "John, those are two completely different circumstances. I heard what Daisy said. You made sure Jack had plenty of supplies as well as a place to go before you asked him to leave. Also, he was a legitimate danger to the community here because of his emotional and mental instability. Meanwhile, and correct me if I'm wrong, you try to tell me that throwing out innocent and peaceful families who are bereft of supplies is the same thing." She rubbed her temple. "That is essentially illogical, John. It's like trying to compare melons to gourds."
He could feel himself calming down, but he was still bothered by his actions. "If he dies, that's blood on my hands."
She pinched her nose out of frustration. "What did I just say, John? The situations are similar in the way that melons and gourds are both plants, but that doesn't mean I would put a melon in vegetable stew nor would I put a gourd in a fruit salad. That's exactly what you're trying to do, John. You're trying to put a gourd in a fruit salad. It tastes wrong and you know it tastes wrong, but you're stubborn, so you keep trying to eat it." He scoffed at her strange metaphor, but she just rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean."
He picked up his hand and ran his hand over his head. "Yeah, I guess I do."
She smiled warmly. "Feel better?"
"Don't be smug." He grumbled, but he was forcing back a tiny smile. "Sorry for…overreacting. You wanna hang out at the State House with me until Daisy has some news?" He asked guiltily. His outstretched hand hung in the air for what felt like hours. She looked at him and then at his offered hand. "Is everything fucked or are we good?"
She shook her head, which sent her wild curls flying in all directions. "We're fine." She smirked playfully. "That being said, my stomach still hurts." She was feeling a bit more daring than usual. "Care to kiss it better?"
He arched an eyebrow at her and settled his arm back across her shoulders. "Is that a rhetorical question?" She leaned into the familiar embrace and wrapped her own arm around his middle.
Fahrenheit was waiting for them upstairs with a smoke trapped between her lips, which were drawn taut. The plume of cigarette smoke was opacus and hung about her like a raincloud stuck on a mountain. She blew out through her mouth as if their appearance were both a complete vexation and a grand relief. "So, Jack is back in town." She tore the finished cigarette from her lips and mashed the end into a nearby ashtray like the thing had insulted her. "How should we play this, Hancock?" Her voice was roughened by both the smoke and a hash of emotion.
"Cool and smooth, until we have more information." His eyes zeroed in on the pile of ash and smashed butts in the ashtray. "Far as I know, Goodneighbor isn't in immediate danger. You can relax."
Fahre was definitely out of sorts; she kept making restless, swaying movements by shifting her weight to one foot and then to the other like a frenetic serpent preparing itself to bite. Her venom was not in her teeth, however, but in her words. "Something is up with this." She hissed through her clenched jaw. "Neither one of you is leaving this room tonight."
Hancock glanced at Bet with concern for his friend in his stygian gaze. "Sure, Fahre." He had his hands up with his palms facing outward. "Let's just sit down and chill-"
"I'm going to guard the door." Her intonation was waspish and her words were choppy with tempestuous attitude. The door struck its frame with enough force to feel the vibration of her disturbed departure all the way across the room. Her heavy footfalls began to beat a rhythm against the abused hardwood floor.
Bet sporadically glanced at the door, behind which Fahre's fervent pacing continued for the greater part of the night. She was worried for her and concerned as to why Fahrenheit was acting like she was being forced to do a jig across a valley made of pins and needles. The fourth time Hancock caught her staring at the door, he nudged her shoulder. "She's like this sometimes. Ya just gotta let it pass. She's always sayin' I don't worry enough and I'm always tellin' her it's because she worries enough about the both of us."
"Heaven protect the fool who tries to cross her tonight." Bet continued to fret, but she slowly let go of any thoughts of trying to comfort their mutual friend. She rested her head on Hancock's shoulder while he sucked away on a Mentat. She realized, with a slightly irked frown, that he still did not imbibe his usual amount of drugs with her around. The single Mentat in his mouth was the only one she'd seen him take the entire night.
"Hancock, do you remember what I said about being yourself around me?" She inquired contemplatively.
He pulled his tricorn down low to better hide his eyes. "Before you start on that again, I just didn't think it was a good idea to get stoned out of my gourd during the current situation." She punched his shoulder out of retaliation because, despite it being an excuse, he did have a point. "Why do you want me to get high so badly?" He grinned and gently tugged on a strand of her mussed curls. "Oh, I get it. You think I will be easier to coerce into bed." He relished the massive blush that spread like an ink blot across her cheeks.
"That is just…I mean, no." She pinched her lips into an adorable pucker as she often did when he was being snarky or teasing her. He knew it was an attempt to fight a losing battle against the laughter that sparkled in her eyes.
The edge of his thin lips cocked up into a self-assured smirk. "You know you want to laugh." He cooed at her.
"Shut up." She was blinking back tears of mirth. "If I laugh, my side will start killing me again." She remembered too late the invitation she'd given him earlier and her brain abruptly stopped functioning properly when he yanked her fully into his lap. "Wha-!" Was her articulate reaction to him pushing up the edge of her threadbare T-shirt. She shuddered when he brushed his thumb over the light bruise that decorated the area between her hip and lower stomach.
The point of his tricorn tickled the skin over her ribs as he dipped his head down to ghost his mouth up to her side. Her heart stuttered in her chest as she felt him flick his tongue between his lips to tease her with the barest hint of debauchery. His breath was cold blowing over her dampened skin, but he might as well have been a dragon because she was roasting on the inside from the heat of the moment. Her breathing had become ragged and erratic because he didn't stop with just that minuscule span of skin, but he continued to place devilish kisses from hip to hip. She considered knocking his hat off his smug head when he ceased his ministrations, but his mischievous grin stole away both her breath and any thoughts of sass. "Feel better?" He parroted her words from hours earlier.
She shifted her balance in his lap and tried not to react too much when she accidentally brushed his erection through the fabric of his pants. She wasn't a virgin; for goodness sakes, but he had her all shook up like this was her first time. She wasn't innocent, but sex was kind of a taboo subject in the vault, so each kid was taught the rudimentary aspects of the act, and then set free into the world with a mind full of questions and a bag full of condoms. She didn't really feel like thinking of Bobby at all, least of all when John had her like this, but it was hard to refrain from marveling at the stark contrast between them at this moment.
Bobby wouldn't have done that, she silently mused, he'd never been much of a kisser. It was always rushed with him and she could count his sex moves on one hand; show up high as a kite, demand sex, receive said sex, and immediately leave to seek more drugs. Hell, she was pretty sure the last time they had cuddled was as teenagers.
John was different. They hadn't even had a proper kiss yet and she could already tell he was different. It was like comparing night and day. She smiled beamishly at her favorite ghoul in the world. "Loads, but you missed a few spots." She heard him suck in a sharp breath as she pulled her shirt over her head and dropped it to the floor.
Hot damn. "Hm, yeah, you're right." His mind clouded over a little with the view presented to him. His hands ached to undo the clasp on her bra, but he settled for rubbing tiny circles over her hips with his thumbs. He needed to make sure, absolutely sure, she wanted this to go any further, so he let her lead. "Are you sure, sweetness?"
Her silence was killing him and he prepared for a change of heart. "I want you, John." Her voice was wavering a little, but he hadn't a real clue as to why. She rubbed her cheek against his and it never ceased to amaze him how she'd never been remotely fazed by the idea of touching him. She kissed the hollow behind his jaw. "Now is just not the right time; I'd rather we not get interrupted again." Her expectant gaze flicked to the door as if a knock would come on cue.
Hancock trailed his fingers up her spine reverently. "I could always push a couch against the door." He was almost serious. She played with the ruffles of his frock and fiddled with the buttons. Her fingers danced along the small area of exposed skin on his upper chest and right along the collarbone. She leaned in and kissed him there. She continued up his throat, followed his jawline, and planted a chaste kiss on his lips.
"I'm not saying no, John, I'm just saying we probably shouldn't be doing this right now." She rubbed against him and his hips bucked up into the touch. "We can, however, do whatever won't require us to have to explain rumpled clothes and the smell of sex."
He pulled her down so that her forehead touched his lightly. "Not a problem, babe." He admired her upper body with a hungry look that suddenly turned apprehensive. He finally noticed a long, thin scar down her side. Now that the blinding haze of lust was clearing, he could plainly see a cluster of smaller, thicker, and obviously more recent, scars that peppered her stomach. He met her eyes and his jaw tensed. "Ya lied to me." He sounded frustrated and pained as if every mark was being carved into him in that moment. He tapped her side. "Up, sugar bomb."
She closed her eyes and sighed. Of course, he'd be disgusted. She really should have expected it after lying to him like she had. "I'm-"
He held up a hand. "Don't you dare apologize to me. Turn around and show me what that dead-as-fuck motherfucker did to my baby." Her heart gave a start even as her stomach rolled. She hadn't even had the courage to look at herself in the mirror, much less allow someone else to look at her. She tucked her chin into her chest and her eyes squeezed shut, she moved up and away to let him see.
Hancock felt a fury that went beyond mere words as his ebony eyes scanned inch after inch of scars, some spaced wide apart and others crisscrossing each other in thick bands of puckered, welted skin. A myriad of injuries to her back appeared to have been made by something long and wide. "The fuck did he use on you?" He made a sinister growl low in his throat that sounded close a feral's ghoul's snarl.
A couple of tears made it down her cheeks and dripped down to her chin. "Mostly a belt." Her words were tight and her tongue felt too thick to properly form the words. "It had metal studs pushed into the leather as decoration…" She gave an involuntary shudder as an evil memory surged forth, but she pushed it away with an ease that came of years of practice. John's fingers traced some of the uglier, more knotted scars and she had to force herself not to withdraw. It's John, it's John, she repeated over and over again in her head, but her heart wouldn't cease its panicked knocking against her ribcage. Her blood rushed in her ears like waves crashing against the shore in a storm.
"Fuck, you're shaking!" Hancock pulled his hands away as if he'd been burned.
His voice snapped her out of it and she opened her eyes, which took more effort emotionally than she'd ever care to admit, and broke through the trepidation of the moment. Her hands went to the metal button that clasped the top of her jeans closed, unzipped, and let her pants fall. She knew that a lot of the scars on her legs were the worst, which was why she always took care to cover herself down to the ankles.
The backs of her legs were riddled with thin, wiry marks that went diagonally down her upper thighs and met at the backs of her knees. One leg, the one she'd broken in her fall down the stairs, had a small and jagged scar where a bit of the bone had stabbed through the skin. She couldn't speak because she knew she'd break the spell of courage she'd come under. She heard John suck in a sharp, angry breath behind her, but she wasn't prepared for him to wrap his arms around her bare waist and rest his head against her ruined back. He was murmuring inaudible things to himself, but his voice sounded raw and bitter. He finally looked at her over her shoulder. "Where's my hat?" There was an intensity and urgency in his question that hinted at what he was going to do.
"Please, John, no." She wiped at the wet remnants of tears that streaked her cheeks, but more followed to replace the ones she wiped away.
He met her eyes as he tugged on his tricorn. "He's dead. He's a fuckin' dead man walkin'." He grabbed his shotgun, an ammo bag, and then turned back to her. "Go ahead and get dressed, babe. We're heading down to that fuckin' vault and I'm going to crucify this motherfucker."
She stood frozen to the spot, tears flooding her eyes and her nose running, while Hancock shouted for Fahrenheit. Realizing that the woman would be in the room at any moment, she hastily pulled her clothes back on and sat down on the couch with her face hidden in her hands. "You said you wouldn't hurt him again unless he tried something!" She tried to remind him.
Fahrenheit eyed her with apprehension as she walked into the room. "What happened?" She asked Hancock.
His temper was obviously getting the better of him and he was huffing like a Brahmin. "I'm gonna kill a bitch, that's what." He snapped lividly. "We're gonna pay sugar bomb's ex-asshole a visit." He laughed, but it was more of a vicious snarl than a real laugh. "And then I'm going to make him feel ten times the pain he put her through before I rip his fuckin' head off."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Fahrenheit pushed him for answers, but he only glanced over his shoulder at Bet. His furious gaze softened a little as he watched her quietly sob into her hands. Fahrenheit's lips tightened and her ice-blue eyes narrowed, her arctic gaze turned subzero in a flurry of understanding revelation. "And you haven't killed him already?" She questioned in a nearly accusatory tone.
He shook his head. "She begged me not to the first time, but now…" He trailed off and wiped his hand over his face. "Goddamnit, Fahre. She swore he only slapped her around! As far as I can see, it looks like he beat her half to death on a pretty fuckin' regular basis. Who knows what else the shithead did that she's terrified to tell me about." Fahrenheit had never witnessed this level of agitation in her friend ever before. His eyes were aflame with black wildfire, and his features were twisted up between wrath, vengeance, and agonized sadness. His rad-scarred hands were clamped around the length of his gun like two vices.
Still, she could hear that girl weeping pitifully and it bit at her. "I don't think this is a good idea." She advised him in a whisper.
He sucked on his teeth. "You sayin' I shouldn't kill that cuntbiscuit?"
She rolled her eyes. "No, by all means, kill him. I'm sayin' don't take her with you. Go grab Dick Tracy from Diamond City, and those kids Travis and Danny, and maybe even that gang she went gallivanting off to with What's-His-Face…the Bomb Babies or some shit like that. People who give a damn about her nearly as much as you do."
"The Atom Cats…huh, wonder what that fuckwad's face would look like smashed in by power armor…" He smiled and it was nothing like his usual ones. This smile promised ultimate agony and it promised that he'd enjoy every second of it. "Good idea, Fahre. Have I ever told ya how many good ideas you tend to have? 'Cause that's the best fuckin' image I've conjured up in a while." He reached up and squeezed her armored shoulder. All of a sudden, his face screwed up in a grimace. "Oh, hell, how the fuck am I going to grab Valentine and the boys from Diamond City? The guards will load me full of lead as soon as look at me."
Fahre scratched the shaved side of her head. "I'll go with you, that's how. Ham will take charge while we're away." Her eyes flicked back over to Bet. "We'll go get Daisy and Magnolia. They'll know how to take care of your girl."
Hancock nodded and she could see that his flare of anger was already subsiding. He'd always been like this; quick as a spark to grow into a white-hot inferno, but just as quick to burn himself out. In the span of a few seconds, he went from ready to rip out throats to ready to make jokes. "Fahre, can ya give us a bit?"
Fahre acquiesced without another word and closed the door behind her. Hancock took a seat beside Bet and rubbed circles on her back. "Can ya look at me?" She was hunched over her knees with her arms crossed at the base of her stomach. Her face was blotchy and swollen from crying, but, thankfully, no more tears came. He pulled her closer to his side, but she was still tense and either couldn't or wouldn't relax. "Babe, it's okay."
A couple of minutes passed before she let out a breath like a deflated balloon and pressed her cheek to his chest. He massaged her scalp soothingly. "Daisy'll take care of you while I'm gone and maybe Magnolia, too." He chuckled. "You still got that crush on her?"
No answer for several minutes, but then she finally spoke. "You'll come back as soon as you can, right?"
"You know it." Relief flooded him. "It shouldn't be too long, maybe a few weeks, and I'm bringin' the crew. They'd wanna visit ya, I think, after that."
She craned her neck up to question him. "The crew? What crew?" She looked so astonished that if the situation wasn't serious, it would have been a comical expression.
"Your friends, babe, remember?" He furrowed his brow at her. "Nick, Travis, Danny, and the Cats?"
She paled and ducked her head back down. "Don't tell them, John. They'd think-"
He sighed heavily. "I have to if ya don't want me to kill him outright. If it's just me, I'm gonna kill 'im as soon as I see him. I can promise they won't think badly of you." He held his tongue in regards to what he couldn't promise, however, because he knew at least a few of the Cats would want a go at DeLuca after he'd had his chance.
She shifted and he noticed that she was pulling into herself again. "They'll think I'm stupid and weak." She sniffed hard and he held her tighter.
"No, they won't." He told her firmly.
"I can take care of myself. Daisy has enough on her plate helping with Jack." She said in a shaky voice. "At least give me that."
He pressed his lips into a thin, indecisive line, but he knew if he didn't allow her some semblance of control she might break down again. "Alright, sweetness, but Magnolia is still going to stop by once a day to check on you." She nodded and was seemingly placated by this compromise. "And you have to sleep here tonight, so that you have the Watch on every floor if ya need someone." He kissed the top of her head. "Gonna miss ya like crazy."
He didn't leave until she felt comfortable enough to go to sleep. He threw a threadbare blanket over her, stocked up on some supplies for the road, and headed out the door. His hand lingered on the door handle for a minute after he'd closed it gently to avoid waking her. He spun on his heel and twisted the knob again to sneak one last look at her before he had to leave for a month. He stared at her and a part of him tore up a bit. "Sorry, babe. He's dead either way." He muttered under his breath.