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Nora and Hancock had spent hours making love. Now they lay in Hancock's bed in the Statehouse, listening to the nocturnal sounds of Goodneighbor: the distant rumble of Magnolia's band downstairs in the Third Rail,the nasally laugh of a female ghoul, two drifters arguing loudly in the street, neighborhood watchmen chatting on patrol, the bang of distant gunshots. Nora snuggled against Hancock's bare, wrinkled chest and closed her eyes and drank in all the familiar smells: cooking Chems, gunfire, rain, booze, cigarettes . . . It wasn't her home, but the familiarity made her feel content. She smiled and snuggled closer to Hancock, who kissed the top of her head and said with a happy sigh, "God, it's good to be home."
Nora and Hancock were still naked under the sheets. Nora loved the feel of her skin against Hancock's. She was surprised. After all, his wrinkled skin was so rough and uneven. And yet, she loved how warm it was, the feel of it against hers. She dragged a playful hand over his bare chest, enjoying the feel of his skin under her fingers.
Hancock's arm was around Nora, but somehow, he managed to light a cigarette with one hand and without removing his arm, and with the cigarette lit, he started to smoke as they lay there. She listened contently to him exhaling and watched almost dreamily as the smoke furled toward the ceiling. Beyond the window, the stars winked against the black sky. It was almost surreal to Nora. That same starry sky had once loomed outside her bedroom window in Sanctuary as Nate held her in their bed after making love. That same sky had loomed over two different worlds.
Hancock exhaled a stream of smoke and tapped his cigarette over the ashtray on the bedside table. "You know," he said thoughtfully, "I'm surprised we wound up like this -- not that I'm complaining. But damn. I never would have guessed. Heh. But then again, everything about you threw me for a loop."
"What do you mean?" asked Nora sleepily, her cheek bulging against Hancock's chest.
"Well, back when we first met," Hancock inhaled on the cigarette and exhaled another stream of smoke, "you seemed . . . I dunno. Afraid of me. I flirted with you to break the tension -- the whole king of the zombies bit -- and you didn't even smile. I thought for sure you were digusted by me, so when I started having feelings . . . Well, I wasn't too keen on letting you know for that reason."
"Is that why you kept calling us just friends?" Nora realized.
"Yeah," Hancock admitted. "I mean, I never held it against you or anything like that. I just figured you weren't into ghouls. Nothing wrong with that."
"John," Nora said sadly, "back when I first came to Goodneighbor, I was a wreck. I'd just killed my husband's murderer -- after being taunted by the bastard for an hour as I fought my way through Fort Hagen -- and I'd just learned that my son had been given to the Institute. I was depressed, tired, hopeless . . . Still grieving my husband, still in pain. I was in no position to flirt. Not even with the king of the zombies." She touched an affectionate hand to Hancock's cheek, and Hancock smiled.
"I didn't realize," Hancock said apologetically. "I shouldn't have taken it personally. But still, most women don't want anything to do with a ghoul. You can't fault me for assuming you'd be the same."
"Really?" said Nora in disbelief. "John, half the women in the Goodneighbor want to sleep with you! Hell, half the women in Goodneighbor have slept with you."
Hancock shook his head against the pillow. "I keep telling you, you ain't like other women, Nora. And it's not just that. You ain't like anyone in the whole damn Commonwealth. Why would someone so beautiful, so rare want to be with someone like me? Never thought this would happen in a million years, I'm just glad it did. Nice to be wrong sometimes, I guess." He inhaled on the cigarette.
"Well, you were right about one thing," Nora said. "I *did* just fall out of the vault that day. I had been out of my vault maybe a week when we met. You were the first ghoul I'd ever seen that wasn't feral."
Hancock exhaled another wreath of smoke. "So I was your first ghoul in more than one way," he said in amusement. His voice lowered to pity as he added, "Must've been quite a shock to walk in the gate and see my mug."
"It was," Nora admitted. "Preston told me about ghouls before I left for Diamond City, but seeing a ghoul rather than just hearing about them is two different things entirely. I wasn't disgusted or anything like that. I was . . . more sad than anything."
Hancock looked down at Nora curiously. "Sad?"
"Yes," Nora said in a low voice. "I thought it looked painful to become a ghoul. I wondered to myself how anyone could live through that kind of suffering. But then, I've given birth, so I guess I understand."
"Heh," said Hancock, amused as he stared at the ceiling. "And all that time I was torturing myself, trying to keep my feelings hidden away because I thought you found me disgusting." He kissed Nora's head again. "Never felt so good to be wrong."