Note: I wrote this one blasting Bad Romance and being angry as hell, so no guarantees as to quality... a little long sorry. But it ended really great. :D

Thanks for the review, MizBlueSage! (I know what my kryptonite is)

He'd gone back to Goodneighbor. Mostly to remind himself who he was, what made him do what he'd done in putting on the coat and becoming Hancock. Let himself be angry that she'd told him what, about the place. He deserved that much, after her comment.

But part of it was him running away, because she made it easy to feel like shit. Her all high and mighty, him the bottom of the barrel. He'd felt like that for a while before they'd talked on the pier, and seeing how easy she talked that Brotherhood fascist out of killing the synth that was Danse―even after doing the drug that he did, and showing him up in that, too―

It was too easy to run. The shit he stepped in the whole way home―yeah, that was shit he'd have to face sooner or later. But not today, and not anytime soon.

If he wasn't so damn sure it was his own shit leaking, he might feel a little better. He was some kind of goddamned zen chem-head bastard, telling Ruby not to run from her pain and hightailing himself home the minute she didn't need him to hold her up anymore. Only good for one-liners, not up to the task of holding his place in her circle. That was John, showing his true colors.

Fucking John. Ruby made John come up to the surface. That hurt.

The stink of the rundown town greeted him as soon as he set foot inside the door, staring down the two open-faced shops and the crackling paint of the Old State House. Home loomed over him, home where he felt like he might not be welcome if he didn't find Hancock again and put on his show.

But it was still home. Hancock took a deep breath, reminding himself why he'd come here to begin with. Why he'd stayed. Home smelled like shit. John was shit, when he stepped into Goodneighbor that fateful first time.

Ergo, he belonged.

That, at least, was simple. Except for that defining night he'd tried to make something better of himself, and stuck to his fucking guns for once, he was worth this place and its people and everything that it stood for. Didn't need some goody-fucking-two-shoes from up north telling him what he was. He knew what he was.

He was Mayor John Fucking Hancock of Goodneighbor, of the people, for the people.

And he was a shit mayor, but he was this town's shit mayor, goddammit. He didn't belong on the sunny side of the Commonwealth, rollicking in the fucking Hills. He belonged in the grime that stuck to the boots of the Brotherhood of Steel, in the Brahmin shit that kept the traders running back and forth to Bunker Hill, in the chems that made it all the way into Diamond City and lined that fat-ass McDonough's deep pockets.

Couldn't do more than survive in some bumfuck town on the ass-end of Boston, right? That was what she'd implied, insulting his people like that, right? Some stupid little shit-heap, not worth your time, and he was the goddamned mayor of it.

Well, his shit-heap might stink, but he was proud of that shit.

Hancock sauntered back into his element.

He settled himself back into the same old routine he'd had, telling pretty speeches to the people, keeping the neighborhood watch busy minding the Triggermen and raiders, wandering 'round the Third Rail and hitting up whoever caught his eye. Basically back to being the addict and troublemaker he'd been before.

But no Mentats. Didn't want to think too hard, now. Not after that bit of hard truth Ruby had laid on him. Liked being angry for just a little while, letting his emotions tell him what to do. Tried to forget who John was, to be Hancock for a little while longer. To capture the high of throwing that rat bastard out that window, and the feeling of power that came with seeing all those people watching him in his moment of triumph.

All the drugs let him run away from John, and John wasn't very happy with that. Didn't want to disappear into the haze and never be seen again. Not after being woke up by that woman―and Hancock hated that, being reminded of how vulnerable he'd been. Being John might have forced him to turn into Hancock, but he didn't want to end up back in those shoes.

John was as much a rat bastard as the ones he'd run away from in Diamond City. Those sort of heavy thoughts kept him awake at night, made it hard to lose himself to the drugs.

But he couldn't really forget, not after Ruby reminded him who he was deep inside. Fuck him for wanting to run around with her. Thought she might be helpful, keep him from getting too big-headed on the power trip that came from running Goodneighbor.

Yeah... she'd knocked his damn legs out from under him and showed him he wasn't just lording it over the place, but doing a really shitty job of it, too. Fuck her for making his heart start beating again with her do-gooder nonsense. Fuck her for―

For being better than that shit-heel he'd been, and couldn't force himself from until he'd made himself into a goddamned monster. For for taking the goddamn high road and letting him trudge through the irradiated motherfucking thistle on the wayside―without even realizing that was what he'd been doing.

Even as Hancock, he was taking the low road. Goodneighbor, what he'd scratched out in the sand, all of it, didn't stand up to anything she'd done. It didn't stand up to the settlements that popped up every time she stopped to take a breather, people following her deciding to hunker down and make a go of it. Damned if she didn't flash them that killer smile and make them think it was worth it, too.

She didn't have to fucking try, she just did shit. And her shit was―a goddamned eagle soaring over his fucking turkey of a town.

He was angry, yeah. She was right. Goodneighbor was a bumfuck town. All he had to do was see what someone else could do, before he saw how stupid he'd been to try. How much he'd screwed up this place.

This was his bumfuck town, though.

True, she was running her campaign with her a better "neighborhood watch"―Garvey and his Minutemen―and her goals were a touch more important than his. But hell, he'd been carving his little "empire" out of the nastiest corner of Boston for years, now. He deserved a little more respect than to be labelled like some unimportant jackass, because he'd kept these people safe.

Kept the assholes and tyrants from telling them what to do. Kept the drugs from ruining the whole of the place, even if he'd pretty much done all the drugs himself―watched out for folks. Made things better, in the shit-filled underbelly of Boston. He'd lived his whole life in that kind of danger.

Ruby was born in the wrong bed to survive in the wastes, and she still managed to show him up at this shit. It didn't seem all that fair, to him.

Hancock put his heavy thoughts out of mind. It made him too angry. Lost himself in the chems for a long time, let himself go back to what he'd been. It was too simple not to. Being Hancock was more important, right now, than letting himself try to come to terms with who John was.

Beside, he'd had a good long time to think about the Man. Ruby... she was the Man.

Made him happier someone else could do that shit, instead of him.

Only took about a week before the sting of his jealousy, his anger at the insult, faded. He realized he'd been an idiot. Ruby'd come to him for advice about something she didn't know, wanted him to be what she'd expected of him. Only he'd risen to the occasion like all the other poor saps she'd roped into her running of the synths, and made himself better for the experience.

She always drew the best out of people. Goddamn do-gooder.

And those matters of the heart, shit she wasn't prepared to handle, shit he'd thought too long and too hard to not advise her on... it turned out good for her. Made him have second thoughts about who he was, at any rate.

He could be Hancock and be John, too. He took the responsibility on, voluntarily. Ruby had to do it because she was duty-bound to stop that jackaninny son of hers from ruining what already existed. She didn't like the terror that the Institute brought any more that Hancock did.

Maybe he right that she kept him from being big-headed about power. Maybe she challenged everyone around her to get better or die trying, and she was the one who really needed the help. All that he'd seen her do was either her trying to maintain some kind of stability in the Commonwealth because she was working toward the goal of getting her son back―or it was her trying to maintain what she'd put into the place because she couldn't get what she wanted, after she'd come to understand what really happened.

A lot like what he'd done in Goodneighbor, come to think about it. Hancock felt a little disappointed in himself. Should have done some Mentats. Would have figured that out a lot sooner.

Alright, so he'd helped. He'd helped with Slag at the Ironworks, he'd helped her take out other raider groups like the one up at Zimonja, and he'd helped her with that idiot Danse and covered her ass when she broke down on the pier. He'd really wanted to help her, then, seeing her crying and as upset as she was.

That brought up other shit, shit that had been weighing down his shoulders for a while. Since he watched her hit that Jet and realized how much he didn't like her using.

Like how he liked her. Liked her, fuck. He admired the damn woman. Sister was just as broken as he was, but she didn't need a monkey suit to make herself better. That was respectable.

Also made him think about how he wished those wheels she kept turning, would turn the shutter on her heart so it would shine on him for a little while. His heart wanted. Hers had other plans.

John liked her a lot more than he let on, but she didn't need that shit on top of all the other shit she was going through. Hancock wasn't what she deserved, and she sure as hell didn't need John. He wouldn't wish John on anyone, not even himself, and here he was saddled with that dumb bastard 'til the end of fucking time.

Man, but that high he'd gotten to earn that time―

Hancock kept at the drugs. Didn't want to think about what happened next, not until he was good and ready.

His mind kept coming back to Ruby. Going over about how she'd called him her friend, about how calm she got after he agreed to help her with that synth asshole. Reminded him why he'd stuck around the Hills for as long as he had.

One of his worst flaws. He cared too goddamn much, for as cool as he was on the outside. Cared about Ruby, about her goals. Wanted to see her do better, because God knew he couldn't. Wanted to see her get what she wanted; whether it was the liberation of the Commonwealth from the terror that was the Institute, the unification of people through the Minutemen goodwill, or hell... even if she wanted to stick it out with the Brotherhood.

Nah... sister wasn't gonna go back to the Brotherhood, no matter what. They hated too much. She only went along with them until she got what she'd needed. Which was good on her, because now she didn't need them anymore and that made Hancock grin for her sticking it to her own Man by running out on their ghoul-hating asses.

She sure as hell wasn't siding with her son, either. Letting go of her boy, him being something she couldn't hold onto anymore... changed her. She'd hit the bottom of her own barrel and the assholes she'd roused from 'round the Commonwealth pulled her ass out of it before she'd counted the nails holding it together.

He'd have killed for that kind of support, when McDonough started tossing ghouls out of Diamond City. Why couldn't she had been around, back then? Back before he got so fed up with himself that he damn near destroyed himself running away from it all?

That was in the past. She was around, now. He just had to find a way to let her give her apology for being so rude, even if he didn't mind the insult anymore.

Had to let her say she was sorry. That was who Ruby was and, knowing her, she was gonna make it a good one. He almost looked forward to seeing what she came up with. And he'd almost given up seeing it happen, before something fucking amazing started happening in Goodneighbor.

Hancock was sitting in the Old State House, rubbing his mouth and listening to the horseshit that Kent was up to on that station of his. Didn't take much for him to find out it was her, running about. She must've known he was keeping an eye out for that sort of thing, too, because she showed up in the State House when he let word get out he wanted to talk to her.

She was playing at being that damn Shroud character, when she walked into his room. Hancock guessed she'd gone and did herself up just to make Kent Connolly feel better, not because she really enjoyed it. But he was amused, because she was doing it so... perfect.

The goddamn voice was what got him. She didn't even care if she embarrassed the living shit out of herself. Any customed freak could run amok doing the stupid shit the Shroud did, like she was. Hell, that was him, even! But that voice she pulled, coupled with the action, the coat, the dedication to the show―it was just perfect.

"You are just priceless," he mumbled at her, taking a drag on his cigarette. Stared her down, taking in the sight.

Ruby's eyes flashed at him. She was extremely annoyed with the matter. If he were still angry he might think she was playing at being Hancock, because she knew how sorry he was. To show him she was just as sorry as him, when it came down to doing stupid shit for kicks and kicking out tyrants.

But she was a damn fine actress, he'd give her that. Pretty impressive for a woman trying to play a male role, especially that ridiculous affect in her voice.

"How should I feel about this?" he asked, trying his damnedest to keep the laughter out of his voice.

"This neighborhood is ill. I am the cure," she pantomimed dramatically.

Hancock nearly swallowed his cigarette with the chuckle he gave. Shook his head at her, instead. "Playing dress up is fun and all, but you've walked into something a whole lot bigger."

The Shroud stared back at him, not willing to give it up. With a nod, Hancock explained to her about the raiders being made into something more scary. About Sinjin, his attempts to rally the bastards into a real thorn in his side.

He'd kept an eye on Sinjin and his group while Ruby was running about taking down the street dealers. Did that for her. He would have done it, anyway, but knowing she wasn't as in-tune with the assholes on these streets made it easier. Goodneighbor watched itself. Sinjin's men were little fish, now. Little fish in a big pond that would grow and grow until there wasn't enough food to feed both sides.

Ruby couldn't watch her own back without half the Commonwealth knowing where she was. Playing at being the Shroud for his sake... it was a damn fine apology. He appreciated that. And he wasn't gonna let her bite the dust until she was done with her little charade.

But Ruby didn't have anyone with her, right now. She'd come back for him, and she'd come alone. He wasn't gonna let her leave without him.

She probably knew he knew; she was a hell of a lot better at playing games with words than he was. Guessed it came from her lawyer education, rather than a school of hard knocks like his skills.

"Goodneighbor'd rest a whole lot easier with Sinjin out of the picture," he said, deliberately, watching her reaction.

She finally broke the facade, smiling exasperatedly at him. "I'm up for some community service," she said, and he heard the laughter in her voice barely being contained.

Hancock drew in a half-breath, put an arm around her shoulder and patted her, smiling. "You know, you're all right," he breathed.

"Good to hear that," she replied, faintly. "I was getting a little tired of all this―" she waved her gloved hand up and down the outfit, and sighed. "I don't know how you do this, John."

He laughed at that, pushing her out of the room.

She did it all in character, damn her. For half the balls on this skinny blonde woman wearing a black trenchcoat and carrying a silver submachine, talking like the old radio plays, Hancock would have walked to Hell and back. Barefoot.

"Death has come for you, evildoer. And I am its Shroud."

When the raider assholes associated with Sinjin were dead or had run off in fear of the Shroud, Ruby immediately sprinted up to Kent's side. Hancock made his way up the stairs, laughing to himself about the horseshit that had gone down, laying his shotgun on his shoulder.

If they hadn't been staring down that bastard and he didn't know what was at stake should they lose the fight, he might've died laughing at her over-the-top acting. God, that was great.

"I don't know..." Kent was saying, when he reached the platform. "I just give up. On all of it. Crime-fighting just isn't what I thought it would be."

"Really?" Ruby asked, giving him a critical glance. "After all this, you're just giving up?"

"I knew it was bad out there," Kent mumbled, shooting a glance at Hancock.

"If you just quit, the bad guys have already won," she protested, frowning at the dejected-looking ghoul.

"You..." he sighed. "You're right. But I'm tired. I just want to go home. Thanks a lot for saving me... I'm going back to Goodneighbor."

Ruby watched Kent for a moment, before she turned her head to look at Hancock. A smile started across her face, and he couldn't help but feel his own mouth tugging in reply. "Well... we get to walk that tight rope of freedom one more day," he grinned, trying not to lose his shit right then and there.

"You use me to deal with your problem, and that's all I get?" she countered, her voice wavering between laughter and deadly seriousness. "Some heartfelt pats on the back and a few encouraging words?"

"I know, right?" He felt the pressure, the urge to give into her tone. "Costume crusading is a really shitty gig."

Kent made a sad noise, and Hancock turned his attention onto the fellow. "Why the long face? You got what you wanted," he said, trying not to feel too badly for the ghoul. He should've known better, the old fool.

"I was t-tortured," Kent stammered. "It's not like the radio plays at all."

"The price of throwing down with the Man is always a few scars," Hancock mused. And wasn't that the truth. He glanced at Ruby. "But Goodneighbor is a little bit safer thanks to the two of you," he told Kent.

"And where would the Shroud be without his faithful friend, Rhett Reinhart?" Ruby spouted, dramatically. Hancock turned himself and shoved his hand over his mouth to muffle the laughter that finally came, coughing to cover it.

Kent's face lit up, though. "This means a lot to me," he said, tiredly but hopefully. "I'll make it up to you, Shroud, I swear."

"Come on, Kent, let's get you back home," she said, and their footsteps echoed in the empty room as they started down the stairs.

Ruby shot a look back at Hancock, jerking her head at him to follow. He coughed once, turned on a heel, and started after them.

Kent probably wasn't gonna walk straight for the rest of his life, after this. Hancock knew what it took to keep the people safe in Goodneighbor. He meant what he said about the scars. You wore 'em with pride, or you wore 'em to the grave.

Throwing down with the Man... taking out the Institute, all that shit, if that left him with a few scars, he'd take it willingly. Ruby always did. Her crazy show with this Silver Shroud stuff was just her way of showing how willing she was to throw down.

And he sure as hell wasn't gonna let her finish against the Institute without seeing just how hard she could really throw down.