Chapter Text
Ten seconds ago, they were headed up the stairs towards the roof, questioning what they were going to do next. As desperate as he was to crack a joke, Hancock kept his mouth shut, not wanting to further upset his companions. He didn’t need to be a psychic to know Nora was about to have a breakdown after what she had just done, and Nick was thinking so hard that he’d probably short circuit if someone tried to interrupt him.
So, Hancock stayed quiet, and tried his best to get used to the uncomfortable silence that enveloped them. They would talk about it soon, they would have to or they’d have no chance of finding Nora’s son, but that probably wouldn’t be until they got back to Nick’s agency, which would take a couple of hours.
Thankfully though, Hancock didn’t have to suffer through this nervous silence for that long, because the second Nate opened the door and stepped outside onto the roof, their ears were filled with the shriek of distant speakers. It took him a minute to see, being as short as he was, but once he pushed past his taller companions, Hancock's eyes fell upon the airship in the sky.
He’d never seen anything like it. It was like something from a pre-war comic book, or a paranoid settler's tails about the institute, except this machine - this flying machine - was actually real, gracing the skies just above their heads.
There was a brief crackly and static of speakers, before a voice filled the night air.
"People of the Commonwealth, do not interfere. Our intentions are peaceful. We are the Brotherhood of Steel.”
The three of them just watched, stunned into silence, as the ship passed overhead, flanked by several vertibirds, spewing military jargon and the same false promises of peace from speakers. Everyone in the Goddamn Commonwealth must have been watching it.
“Ho-lee-shit,” Hancock mumbled, breaking the group's streak of silence, as he stared, unable to pull his eyes off of the airship.
Nick was next to speak, almost as stunned at the sight as Hancock. “Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing.”
It pulled the Ghoul's attention away from the airship that was now quickly passing them by, headed east towards the city. “What the fuck?” he questioned, confused.
“Not a Poe fan, John?” Nick responded flatly, raising an eyebrow at the Ghoul, which only confused him more. Before he could bite back however, Nora snapped, telling them to shut up. She was transfixed by the ship, and made her way to the edge of Fort Hagen's roof as it slowly made it's way to the city.
"We've got to go see Danse,” the human stated. Hancock let out an awkward hiss and turned on his heel, biting his lip to keep himself quiet. She was right, of course, she always was, but Hancock really hated that guy. Find an intact pre-war dictionary and look up “Prick” and Paladin Danse’s picture would show up.
Nick, on the other hand, was quick to voice his concern. "Woah, woah, who's this 'Dance' guy?"
"He's a, a-a soldier or something, in the Brotherhood, he's bound to know what's going on. We've gotta get to Cambridge, come on!" Nora nearly tripped over herself as she dashed for the stairs, stopping briefly at the end of them to glance over her shoulder. Her already grim expression worsened when she saw her companions hadn't immediately followed her. "What are you guys waiting for?"
Nick and Hancock looked at each other, knowingly.
Nick rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, glowing iris’ lowering to the ground as he spoke, an unfamiliar unsureness filling his voice. "Look, doll, as much as I'd love to go rushing off to pick fights with an armada, we don't know how these fellas will react to a Synth."
"Well, if how they treat Ghouls is anything to go off of, probably won't end well,” Hancock replied, and played with the collar of his coat, lacking anything else to keep his hands occupied.
To say that his run in with Danse and his Brotherhood scouts hadn’t gone well was the understatement of the century, like saying that the US was struck with a single dud missile during the war. The tin-clad asshole very nearly choked Hancock out before Nora put a stop to it. When the babe went on and agreed to help them, Hancock had to wonder if she had brain damage from cryo, or if she just didn’t give a shit about him. Danse and his fellow machine-fetishists just gave him dirty looks after that, and wouldn’t even refer to him by name. They called him it. Hancock wasn’t about to hang around just to be treated like that, and Nora was confused when he decided to head back to Goodneighbor by himself. She was two hundred years old, so she was bound to be a bit behind on social cues but really?
So, in short, Hancock didn’t really like the Brotherhood of Steel. He’d only had one experience with them so far, but first meetings left a lasting impression.
The walk back to the city was filled with tension, just like Hancock had predicted, even if it was split up with occasional conversation between himself and Nick. The stress was radiating off of Nora, and it was having an effect on her companions. After a while, the Synth and the Ghoul just stopped trying to ease the tension, and settled into uneasy silence.
They only stopped once they reached the edge of the city. Nora didn’t want to stop, insisted she could keep going, but Nick and Hancock both pushed back and made camp. They didn’t need sleep, but she did, and they weren’t particularly interested in dragging their friend’s unconscious body the rest of the way.
Once Nick was out of earshot, off checking the surrounding area for raiders or some shit, Hancock looked over at Nora and decided it was time to talk. Despite being forced to lay down and rest, she was trying her damnedest to stay awake, probably just to spite them.
“You okay?” the Ghoul asked. She bristled in her sleeping bag, and looked over at him, staring for a moment as if she hadn’t heard him. Eventually, she sighed, a small, defeated sigh, and looked back at the starry sky.
“Do you really have to ask?”
“No, but I thought you’d want me to.” Hancock bristled awkwardly where he sat, against the wall at her side, and after a while looked up as well. “I’m not much good at this sorta thing. Just… I want you to be okay.”
“That’s sweet, John,” Nora responded, and he looked back at her. Tears streamed down her rosie cheeks. “I’m… I’m not okay, don’t think I will be for a while… or… ever… but… I’ve got to see Danse.”
Suddenly, she moved, wriggling out of her sleeping back and sitting, her teary eyes fixed on the sky.
“If I can get their help, then maybe… maybe I’ve got a chance at getting Shaun back…” she said, trailing off towards the end as her voice broke, and she began to cry more heavily. Hancock moved quickly, taking her hand and holding it in his own, which caught her off guard.
“You’ll get him back, Sunshine. I know you will.”
He smiled, and after a while, she smiled back, comforted.
“Thank you, John,” she whispered, and leaned in, placing a kiss on his scarred cheek.
Hancock cared about Nora, which was more than he could say for the majority of women he hooked up with. She was beautiful, smart, brave, and whatever they had made him feel oddly complete. Hancock had never considered himself “relationship material”, but dammit if Nora didn’t make him want to try. That night, she curled up beside him and fell asleep watching the stars, and it filled his chest with a fluttery feeling that almost made him feel sick.
Damn, she’d made him soft.
The next morning, they bid goodbye to Valentine, who’d opted to go back to his office instead of joining them on their mission to seek out Paladin Danse. Danse and his scouts had long since moved from the police station they had found them in, so Nora decided their best bet was the most direct one: Go to the Brotherhood’s airship and ask if he was there.
Hancock thought it was dumb, but he wasn’t about to argue. It’s not like he had a better idea, except maybe head back to Goodneighbor and go on a chem binge to get their minds off of it. Honestly, that would probably be more helpful in finding Nora’s son than whatever Danse could do for them.
It took almost another whole day of travel, but as the sun was going down, Nora and Hancock had arrived at the old Boston Airport, where the Brotherhood set up shop. It wasn’t hard to find the gigantic airship floating ominously above the city, but it was a little bit more difficult to find out where the soldier’s had anchored it.
“Damn, they made short work of it,” Hancock said, as he looked down the scope of his companion's sniper rifle to check the borders of the camp. Considering they’d only arrived last night, they were putting up some formidable defenses. There was already a guard tower, and a few of the lowly runts were erecting some metal walls.
“Yeah, they do,” Nora replied, and tugged on his sleeve, urging him to get back behind cover. Hancock obeyed and crouched down beside her once again, laying the rifle on the ground. They’d managed to find a good spot at the top of a half collapsed building that gave them a clear view of the Brotherhood’s camp, and made it hard for them to be spotted.
Nora hoisted her back over her shoulder once again as she stood up. “Come on, and remember, we’re here in peace. We need these guys’ help.”
Blinking in disbelief, Hancock stayed crouched down for a moment, half expecting for Nora to reveal she was joking. “Excuse me?”
“What?” the human asked cluelessly, tilting her head.
“Uh, don’t you think you might get a little flack for walking in there with a Ghoul on your arm, doll?” Hancock replied.
A flash of worry crossed Nora’s face, and she shook her head. “What? That’s crazy, you’re not feral, they shouldn’t-”
“Your old friend Dansey Pants tried to suffocate me, doll. Don’t you think his friends might react the same way?”
After stuttering for a moment, her face turning bright red, Nora lowered her gaze shamefully. “I… yeah, you’re right,”
Hancock quickly stood up and grabbed the woman by the shoulders, smiling at her and waving a hand dismissively. “Hey, no issue. I’ll hang back here until you’re out.”
“You sure?”
“Course, and if I get bored, I’ll leave ya a note telling you I wandered back into town,”
Nora nodded, readjusting her bag on her back, and before she descended the stairs to the lower floors, looked back at him. “Don’t do anything stupid,” she said, before disappearing down the stairs.
“Sunshine, I’m the king of stupid,” Hancock called after her, grinning, and fell back into his comfortable spot on the floor.
He was pretty good at entertaining himself when left to his own devices, so time flew by. He’d managed to grab some chems from the bodies of a couple of the raiders they’d shot up to get this spot, and spent most of the time messing with his shotgun and pretending to shoot imaginary targets.
Long after the sky turned dark, Hancock had taken so many drugs and accidentally shot something for real that he decided to pack it in for the night and get some sleep. He was more than ready to black out and embrace wonderful fever dreams, but never got to. A strong force colliding with his stomach woke him up, and sent him sprawling across the floor, wheezing and panting like a kicked dog.
When he opened his eyes, the crumbling room was filled with a lot more light and noise than he’d remembered, at least, unnatural light and noise. Harsh white lights and the loud clinks of metal filled made his senses scramble, and it scared him. After a moment, a hand gripped him by the back of his jacket, and he risked looking at his attacker. Before he could make anything out, though, a powerful punch in the jaw sent him reeling again, and nearly knocked him back down. Hancock could handle himself in a good old fashioned fist fight, but was practically helpless when attacked completely unprepared.
Through the ringing in his ears, he heard a voice, a woman speaking through a radio or something. Her voice was muffled, but he could still make it out.
“Sir, this is Ranger, we have apprehended the intruder. It’s a Ghoul. Your orders?”
The pieces were quickly falling together in Hancock’s mind, and it terrified him. The Brotherhood had found him. He didn’t have time to think of how or why, all he could think of was how to get away.
His attacker was trained on him, though, and the second he so much as lifted his head to look for a way out, he was beaten down again, this time by a kick directly to the back of his head. They’d have no time to act on their stupid fucking orders, if this guy kept his shit up, he was going to fucking kill him.
“Mutant filth,” Hancock’s attacker, a man, sneered, and spat on him, actually spat on him. If his head wasn’t spinning, Hancock would have jumped up and pushed the little fucker off of this building.
“Copy, sir,” she female soldier stated, and then addressed her companion. “Let’s get this thing back to base-”
“The fuck you are!” Hancock poured all of his strength into pulling himself up, and almost got his footing before he was hit in the back of his knees. A sickening crack rang through the air and he collapsed, letting out a shriek as pain flooded his left leg. He didn’t dare look down to see the painful, unnatural angle his leg had been twisted into, and the soldiers were dead set on not letting him get the chance to.
“Quiet!”
With a final blow to the head from the same weapon they’d knee-capped him with, Hancock's head connected with the rubble, before he fell into darkness.