Note: In the words of one of my fans, when in doubt, throw in more romance. I did have Hancock planned and written over a week ago, though. This is an updated result of that.

I know everything is jerky, moving between the scenes. I'm still exploring the characters as I go along. (Except for Maxson, I really don't want to write him right now.)

John was sitting away from the Hills, at the edge of a pier. The creek moved steadily under his feet as they dangled over the edge, the toes of his boots brushing the surface of the water. With one hand on a fishing rod and the other on a beer, he was enjoying the day. He told the skeleton sprawled out nearby, but that one was forever silent.

"Don't know how you went," he said to it, looking down at the grimy dress clinging to the bones. "Hope you went somewhere good."

Might've been the last vestiges of the mentats he'd taken, but he was feeling contemplative today. He finished the beer, set down the bottle, and reeled in the fishing line. Nothing. Ah, well.

John stared up at the blue sky, peeking through the clouds, and listened to the low hum of the settlement behind him. Being away from Goodneighbor... getting a break from being the Man, all that. Was running through his head a lot more often, lately. He didn't do much in Sanctuary Hills that he hadn't at Goodneighbor, except that here he was free from the responsibility. What he did here was voluntary.

Voluntarily supporting freedom, like he'd done before he became mayor. His mouth curled up into a smile. Hadn't had a chance to kick some serious ass like that, in a while. Ruby made it real easy―easy to find the assholes, easy to take them down. Keeping the raiders in the wastes at bay, protecting the people. He was there when she took out that bastard in the Saugus Ironworks, trying to make himself a little raider empire.

Shit like Slag deserved to be ground under the boots of another. Minding his own but ruling with an iron fist. Fuck that shit. In this world―his world, Ruby's world―here, that kind of shit didn't fly more than a foot before someone put a foot on its neck. His foot or Ruby's, didn't matter. It only mattered that it happened.

How it should be, he thought. This world had enough shit to go around.

Here in the world Ruby was trying to make, he wouldn't have to worry about people trying to take his legs out from under him―like Bobbi No-Nose and the Triggermen, that sort. Here, he wouldn't have to claw his way out from under tyranny. Wouldn't have had to become Hancock, to right the wrongs, in Ruby's world.

To fight the powers that be. The powers that be were too undermanned to notice if he tried, right now. Too busy keeping the bastards in the wastes down, to mind that there might be insurgency. Hell, he was still surprised there hadn't been insurgency in the settlements. Sister did good, keeping people happy like she was.

She had a full plate with this Minutemen shit. Didn't surprise him. She was the martyr type, he figured. Fahrenheit told him how she talked Bobbi out of trying to steal from him, how she'd appreciated the General's soft tone and sway. John was impressed. Bobbi didn't cave easy. Neither does Fahrenheit, heh.

Ruby had a way with words that precluded violence. She'd put herself on the plate and offered it up to the assholes, and took the hit for everyone else. Left it up to the soldier and the Gunner to cover her ass if the plan went sour.

Hadn't gone sour, though. Her way worked for her... at the expense of her sanity, maybe. Hancock had fought tooth and nail against the assholes, since―man, he didn't want to think about that. Not right now.

Hancock was a fighter. John... was not. That was why he'd put on the coat. Why he'd remade himself, so he could fight. Ruby, she fought with words more than the violence that had made him into Hancock. Made friends, got contacts, kept the lights on at home, made wheels turn. Respected others, but didn't push 'em around. He liked that.

Hell, he just liked Ruby. Now, that... that surprised him. She wasn't really his type.

But she was... shit, she wasn't like anyone else in the world he'd ever met. He knew he ought to think more highly of her than he did. Sister was running the whole of the place and hadn't been complaining. Other than her breakdown on the bridge... which the soldier hadn't fucked up, and MacCready sure was disappointed with that.

That boy didn't know the half of it, when it came to women. John did. Ruby wasn't gonna fall in love with the Gunner because he would take care of her; she was gonna martyr herself to love him, like she did with everything else, and take care of him.

John wouldn't wish himself on anyone, like that. MacCready wouldn't be able to suss it, if Ruby babied him. He'd just be happy he got his way, like a spoiled brat.

And the soldier, hell, that one didn't even seem remotely interested. Unless that was how he showed it. Holding back. Like John; not wanting to let the interest show because he didn't deserve a woman like her. Danse didn't act one way or the other about how he felt, other than proclaiming undying friendship.

Doubted the man would know what the hell to do if he got the girl, anyway. So damn awkward. Fellow couldn't even bring himself to give her a fucking hug, when she was down.

Heh, he knew what he would do―

Shit, heavy thoughts. John didn't much like thinking all this heavy shit.

He ran a tongue along his teeth and fingered the inhaler of Jet in his pocket, debating on killing the heavy thoughts. Ruby always thanked him when he offered her up chems, but never used them. He wasn't entirely sure what she'd done with the, by now, hundreds of caps worth of chems he'd given her. Probably sold them for all those shipments of copper and shit that came into the Hills.

Each to their own, he supposed. Couldn't make the woman want for what she didn't. She might feel better if she tried a hit once in a while, stop all the pain, but... she put herself into the people to run away from her memories as much as he did the drugs to forget his.

John felt a little lightheaded for a brief moment, and shook it off. That was normal―and it was normal for him to lose himself in thoughts, every once in a while. The chems helped him forget those thoughts. Helped keep him steady, while he ignored the past and tried his damnedest not to remember who he'd been.

He was John Hancock now, huh? Had to set the example. Be the Man. God, he hated that.

John pulled the inhaler out and held it to his mouth. Contemplation was getting a little tiresome.

"Hancock!"

He turned to see Ruby moving through the brush, coming over the ground toward him. Dropped the hand holding the inhaler to his side and watched her. "Yeah?" he asked, as she hit the boards of the pier.

Ruby paused for a moment, and John studied her. She wore the Minutemen hat―every bit as impressive on her head as the tricorn was on his own―but had changed out the outfit for a Brotherhood jumpsuit and other accessories. Preparing to leave on a run, he expected. Found himself staring at her face, watching the hidden emotion under the facade.

She had green eyes―he didn't remember what color his eyes had been. Probably brown, since he'd been so full of shit. Ten years was a long time for anyone in this world, long enough to forget their past. Not him, though. He'd only forgotten his face.

Ruby was standing there, in front of him, awkwardly. John's eye swept down her front and he felt a smile coming 'cross. Ruby was a good-looking woman. She wasn't thin, but was soft-looking. He knew under all that soft skin, she had a good bit of muscle. He was willing to bet you could bounce a cap off her ass and catch it in mid air.

John stood, looking at the creek again, and lifted the Jet in his hand. When he started waxing on in his head like that about the Minutemen missus, that was the time to forget. Impure thoughts about her, much as he enjoyed it, only made him more uncomfortable with himself.

She made a frustrated noise, reached out, and swiped the inhaler from his hand. He was about to protest but stopped stock still when she inhaled it, herself.

Shit. Not a good thing, seeing Ruby doing chems. She breathed in as deeply as anyone ever could, her jumpsuit expanding with the breath and pushing her breasts out. He bit the inside of his mouth and waited for her to explain. And enjoyed the view. Couldn't not appreciate that one.

"I need your advice, Hancock," she slurred. Her voice was temporarily distorted by the drugs, sounding deeper and slowed. She tossed the inhaler back to him.

John chuckled, put the empty thing in his pocket and fished out another. "Hang on," he muttered, breathing in his hit. He watched the world conceiving around him, the blurred beauty as everything became real. "Something got you jammed?" he mused, a smile on his face.

Ruby wobbled a little, then dropped to the pier. "Jesus," she said, blinking rapidly. "How can you do that stuff?"

John stared at the water in amazement. Never failed to amuse him, when he was high. Watching the motion slowly rolling through the liquid, for the few seconds that it lasted. He almost forgot she was speaking to him, for a moment.

"What, Jet?" he asked, raising what used to be an eyebrow. "It's easy. Just put your mouth on it and breathe."

Ruby laughed, a nice sound. "Okay, yeah," she said, chuckling. "Man... uh, I hope it wears off quick." She coughed and spat into the water. "Tastes like shit."

"It is shit," he shrugged. "Why are you doing Jet, anyway? You never―"

Ruby paled and gripped the post nearby with one hand, her knuckles white from the strength. "Hancock." She coughed again. "I have to find Danse. And... kill him."

"What? Why?" He squatted down in front of her and put out a hand to steady her. Wouldn't be right to let her wobble her shapely ass into the river by accident. Not if he was there to watch out for her.

"He's―" she laughed, and rubbed her face. Eyes were red. Had been crying. "He's a synth, Hancock," she said, her voice full of disbelief.

"Huh," he said. "Wouldn't have figured it. Makes sense, though." He did act less like a human being than anyone he'd ever known. That moniker he'd given the soldier was more than appropriate, now.

"What do I―I mean, I can't―" she wiped her eyes again but the tears started anyway. "We're friends―I think―and I know―"

"Know what now?" John asked, steadying her with both hands. She was shaking like a tree in a storm. Damn, this shook her bad, even with the Jet to dull it. He didn't expect her to make much sense, after that first hit ever. But shaking like that... he hadn't seen that one, before. Not with Jet, anyway.

"I know I should be lenient, but I―I can't," she whispered. "I went to war against the Institute." Her hands were shivering in her lap like scared dogs, trying to hide themselves under her legs, now. John shot a glance at them, then laid one of his onto hers. She went still, sniffling.

"I hear ya, sister," he replied. "What's the lay?"

Ruby sighed, looked down at his hand on hers, and adjusted herself so that she was square on her ass. "Elder Maxson said I had to kill him because he's a synth. Because he... because he exists."

John nodded. "Sounds like the Brotherhood."

"And..." she sighed again. "I thought I hated synths. I did hate them. Shaun―" she started crying, fat tears rolling down her face.

"Heard about that one from MacCready," he muttered, shifting his weight. Looked around to make sure no one was watching. Didn't need some idiots stumbling in on her losing her shit again. He'd been the idiot, the last time. And it could've been a lot worse, if some random settler came by and got demoralized by the sight.

"You―you know," she said, almost sounding relieved. "That boy Kellogg h-had, wasn't h-him."

"Yeah, I know," John said. "Shit move, on his part. Tugging at hearts. Bad karma."

"John, what do I do? How can I save Danse―and not screw things up? We can't go to war against the Brotherhood, too―" She stared up at him, and he moved his hands away. Sat back and tried to think about what he would do.

Well, he wouldn't have bothered with the Brotherhood to begin with. Made it a little difficult to imagine how it would play out, for him. He could barely keep himself in Goodneighbor, held to the people there. Was more focused on making the place inhabitable, over moving forward.

He wasn't enough on his own to do what she was doing. To make shit from the ground up into something better. He'd only swooped in and taken down a figurehead, rather than create a town from scratch.

"Why do you keep my ass around here," he asked her, curiously. "You don't seem the type to want a chem-head up in your perfect little world."

"What?" she sputtered. "Hancock, you―you needed the break, right?"

"Said I wasn't gonna become the Man," he agreed.

"You... you wanted to get away. I asked you here to help me." She sniffled, wiped her nose. "And I do need your help. I need everyone's help."

"All these people," he shook his head. "And you came to me for advice?"

Ruby sighed, covered her face. "You... you have a heart," she muffled. "And you hear better than everyone else. Even if you don't listen."

John chuckled a little. That illuminating conversation between the two of them, when he'd told her about why he took on the name and the outfit, and she came away with him having a heart. It wasn't completely untrue. He'd become Hancock to prove to himself it was worth being alive, to make up for everything he'd not done. Everything he would have done, if he had that heart before it was forced on him in the gutters of Goodneighbor.

He did it to be stronger than what he'd been. He did it for not fighting against McDonough, when he had the chance. For letting him get rid of the ghouls in Diamond City. For giving up on trying to save anyone and everyone, including himself.

Ruby and he were polar opposites, or so he'd thought. She'd never given up―until now, it felt. And she came to him when she gave up. Go figure.

"You keep me around to show you what happens when you give up, don't you?" he asked coldly.

"What?" Ruby lowered her hands and blinked at him. "Wh―" She shook her head at him. "That's ridiculous, Hancock―"

"Is it? I told you I was scraping out of the bottom of a shit-filled barrel." He sighed. "That I put on the suit to fix the barrel. So it wouldn't leak."

Ruby shook her head again. "You... I don't keep you around as an example, Hancock. You... get along, make people happy. Even if they have to do chems to be happy." She looked down at her hands, still shaking slightly.

"You want another hit?" he asked, holding out some Jet.

"No, thank you," she whispered, and lowered her hands to her lap. "We are... friends, aren't we?" she asked, slowly.

"I think so." He squinted at the creek again. "But, hey, that might be some chem-dream I had two weeks ago, for all I remember."

Ruby sputtered a little laugh. "Don't lie, Hancock. We are friends. I value your friendship."

"You value being friends with the Brotherhood?" he shot back. "Gonna give up Big Iron for them?"

She breathed out, slowly. "No. I don't think so."

"There's your answer, then. Go out and get your murderbot back." He shrugged again and ran his tongue along the inside of his teeth, pensively.

Ruby stared at him, her face full of confusion. "But you―"

"Think I'm all for keeping synths down? Well, yeah." He stared back at her. "But that bucket of bolts did good for anyone around here, keeping people safe. Don't see why he's the problem. People that made him, now..." John shot her a look. "You take down the man out there making that shit, and we're golden. No more synths being made, no more problem."

Ruby nodded, blinking rapidly. "Yeah..." she said, sighing. "Yeah. Okay. I see what you mean."

You'd better, he thought. It was hard for him to say what he didn't really believe. To make it better for her, okay for her. It's the little lies in life, we appreciate, he thought. Damn synths coming in, scaring people... Danse hadn't done anything like that. He hadn't made much of a wake when he came back with Ruby, but for his―John guessed it was programmed, his attitude toward the rest of them. But the soldier had helped keep the Hills safe, and John didn't think he would drop it all to swear some sort of sick allegiance to the Institute.

He didn't like Danse, but Ruby did. And that mattered more, right now. Danse had helped her more than anyone else had, out here. More than MacCready had, and synth or not the soldier was level-headed enough to keep Ruby from breaking down again. He'd made her feel ten times better that night on the bridge. Even if he hadn't hugged her, the awkward bastard that he was.

John wasn't about to take away what she needed, kill the synth that she had come to know as the man Danse, because he was created by some shitheels down in the deep dark terror of people's hearts. It was almost as bad as the Institute taking people off in the night.

"You want me to come with you?" he asked. "Help you track him down?"

Ruby stared at him for a moment. She hadn't bothered to take him anywhere since he came back to Sanctuary Hills with her the first time. Left him to his own devices. Not enough action to make him want to stay, really. Much as he liked her attitude.

...A lot like him, except she hadn't used drugs to run away. He could respect that. Didn't much like to see her attitude reversed, though.

"You shouldn't want to save him," she said, slowly.

"Don't make me change my mind, Ruby," he cautioned.

"I..." she sniffled and wiped her face. "Yes. Please come with me."

"No problem." He nodded at her. "Hey, but no more Jet." He rattled a box of mentats in his pocket. "There's a chem for everyone. We'll find yours."

"No, thank you," she said, much more firmly. "I'm done with that for good. I can still taste the shit."

John smiled a crooked smile at the perfect blue sky above Sanctuary Hills, and nodded to himself.

Ruby should be herself. That was how he liked her best.