Chapter Text
The monochromatic landscape stretched in all directions, a world of brown and rot and filth. Even the sun hit her with a dull mustard hue, the light fighting through a smog of radiation and pollution. Mud, decay, dull rust as far as the eye could see; she wondered when in the Divine Comedy this had been described, because half the time she was certain that she must have died in that damned vault.
Only one sight broke the endless expanse of beige, one point of rich color in the mass grave of Earth.
That red jacket, tattered and torn, patched a dozen times and still worse for wear, could catch her eye no matter where she was in the Commonwealth. Nora could pick it out from miles away and follow it like a moth to flame every time. Of course, the man wearing it had just the same effect. He wore that coat like it was the skin he’d lost, and truly, it suited him. He was the fire that could draw her in from anywhere.
Another blister reminded her of just how far they’d come together, bloody but still not as vivid as that coat. From Goodneighbor to Covenant, Sanctuary Hills to Lexington, and a hundred wrecked buildings in between, the world didn’t stand a chance as long as they always watched each other’s backs.
“You have been one hell of a friend.”
And this moment, all she could think of are the miles they walked together. The callouses earned were testament to their adventures, she thought as she glanced down at her ruined feet nervously, spots of red showing through her shoes where she knew the damage was worst. Any longer looking right at him, and the brightness would burn into her vision, so bloody boots it was.
“Uh… did I say something wrong?”
Immediately she choked on the things that she could have been saying, should have been saying! Damn it, he was just standing there like a fool while she tried not to stare holes through his face!
“N-no! I… I appreciate it, I mean -- I feel-- you’re--” Friend? Was that it? Not that that was bad! No, no, she would never refuse his friendship! But she’d always thought his cloudy black eyes said something more.
But if she was wrong, she couldn’t let him know. Nora couldn’t risk losing him over a few flutters of her heartstrings or forlorn sighs. She couldn’t lose him if he knew that she was getting maybe more invested in their relationship than he meant her to.
“You alright? Hey, hey, sit down.” He was already reaching into his pockets, pulling out anything and everything he knew could bring her down when she got overwhelmed. Usually after battle, or after she’d been forced to kill someone, but her attacks could happen just about any time. her anxiety could only get worse going from life in the suburbs to life in an apocalyptic warzone. Hancock would hold the Jet inhaler to her mouth for her and instruct her to breathe it in, or roll her sleeve for him to slide a Med-X needle into her skin. If not for him looking out for her, in the thick of a dangerous gunfight or in her darker moments of despair, she might not have survived out her this long. Sure, she could shoot well and could give the raiders a run for their money, but life here did not come easily to her when all was said and done.
“It’s not an attack,” she stammered urgently. “I’m fine, I’m just--”
“You’re all on edge, sister. We don’t have to talk about nothin’ right now. I got you. Sit down right here.” His leathery hands, etched with lines and ridges like bark on an old tree, held up an inhaler demonstratively and gave it a shake. “I got you,” he said again.
It wasn’t an attack, but she was getting herself overwhelmed and wouldn't say no to the Jet that might get her a grip again. She knelt down in front of him as instructed, hands on her shoulders to guide her to her knees, her breath heaving in short gasps as she leveled her eyes with the grand ol’ Star Spangled Banner looping his hips.
His rough fingers caught Nora’s jaw, prompting her mouth to open. He slipped the edge of the inhaler between her lips, dark eyes kept on hers. His torn face split in a small, approving smile. “That’s a good girl. I got your back anytime, don’t you worry.”
Then she breathed it in, and when the world slowed around her, and she could make some sense of her rising emotions and the many thoughts rattling in her brain, she fell back onto her ass in front of him.
“Feeling better? You’re looking red as my jacket.”
“Y-yeah…” She nodded and let her eyes fall shut. Everything went to a crawl. She could catch up to her own worries and feelings. “Just… what you said…”
“It’s nothin’. Just wanted to say thanks, that’s all.”
“I know. Thanks. I… feel the same. You’re a damn good man, Hancock.” The Jet kept her from feeling like she was helpless, powerless right now. Kept her focused and in control. When everything was so slow, it was easy to speak carefully, to keep her voice from breaking. “I’m lucky to have you at my back.”
“And God help any of ‘em who get in our way,” Hancock’s raspy voice agreed. He sank down to her level, elbows on his knees as he studied her. “Now, I know I could stand to listen to how wonderful I am for the rest of my days, but I’ll let you catch your breath. When you’re ready to hit the road, say the word.”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
The crimson jacket was her anchor, the thing she focused on until the Jet ebbed away and time resumed at its typical pace. And when it did, he took her hand and helped her up.
She could fight to the death with super mutants, but would crumble the instant the fighting ceased. She could make heavy decisions with confidence, only to cry as soon as she was alone again and the weight found her shoulders. And Nora could laugh and joke all day with Hancock, but tonight she’d need something just to keep composed until he fell asleep.
It was alright. He’d let her wear his jacket when it got cold, and she knew which gold-embroidered pocket had the Med-X.