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Even after a nuclear apocalypse, it seemed as though there was a bar around every corner in the cities just outside the Commonwealth. Hancock couldn’t be more grateful for that fact.
Sidled up to another counter in another unknown settlement, he was drunk, high, and attempting to forget about the fact that he had ever even lived in the Commonwealth to begin with. Just a nameless rich ghoul with a chem habit, John Hancock had finally run somewhere his past would not follow him. Still dressed in his signature tricorn, he was happy to partake in the joys of the wasteland each night, sleeping away the mornings and travelling every afternoon.
The night in question was calm. A mockery of a pre-war bombshell who didn’t sing half as well as Magnolia did was crooning in the corner, her curves gently accentuated by her tight, sequined dress. Couples danced, swaying to the music, while other lonely bachelors lined the bar and sat on beat-up couches in the boarded-up building serving as their speakeasy. Somewhere upstairs a chem dealer was giving some first-timer a sample and the thought was almost tempting enough to drag Hancock away from the music and booze, but in the end he found he was far too tired to leave his spot. So, the ghoul sat, gazing at a woman who brought up memories of his own sweetheart and attempting to drink himself under the table.
At some point, another ghoul had settled into the spot next to him, ordering a glass of straight whiskey and gazing at the singer from across the bar. Hancock would’ve noticed his company sooner had he not been completely trapped in his own head. Instead, he was 100 miles away, daydreaming about Kathy and every moment they’d shared together.
“She’s quite a sight, eh?” The ghoul to his right elbowed him gently, shaking Hancock out of his daydream.
The stranger was wearing a crisp tweed suit, definitely well preserved since the bombs fell, and a matching fedora on his pitted head. His smile was wide but genuine, which was a rarity as far as Hancock was concerned. Genuine people were few and far between in Goodneighbor, a town of crooks and drifters, so Hancock had learned early on in his stint as mayor how to tell a person’s intention. It would do no harm to make friends with a local, especially one with no ulterior motives, so he decided to let the conversation flow.
“I mean, she’s definitely not bad looking. Do you know if she’s here alone?” Hancock asked. The other ghoul smirked, mirroring Hancock’s own expression.
“Oh she’s not alone, that’s my wife.”
Hancock nearly spit out his drink.
“I’m sorry brother, I mean-“
“No, no, go ahead. If she didn’t want people looking she wouldn’t have dressed up and put on a show. The name’s Jasper, and you are?”
“Hancock. John Hancock.”
When the initial shock passed, Hancock was only hit with another wave of confusion. There he was sitting with a ghoul who looked just like him and had done what he thought was entirely impossible; settled down and married a gorgeous girl who didn’t seem to mind the radiation damage. It sent a stake straight through his heart. If he hadn’t run at the first sign of conflict maybe he could’ve had that fairy tale ending with his own girl. It wasn’t worth thinking about, though, and he attempted to banish the thought from his head.
“Well John, don’t worry about me, just enjoy your booze and my little blast from the past. Trust me, she doesn’t mind,” Jasper looked at Hancock like he was an old friend. Hancock didn’t know if it was the memories or the false sense of security, but he trusted this Jasper a hell of a lot more than he usually trusted strangers while drunk.
“Does it bother her?” Hancock asked, all honesty and charm. Jasper just looked at him with a confused quirk in his brow. “You know, the whole ghoul thing.”
“Oh that? She actually thinks it’s quite charming, with my old timey suit and all. At the end of the day if my face bothers her she definitely isn’t letting me know.”
There was an ease with which Jasper talked about himself. It was almost as if he didn’t mind being a ghoul. The idea of living a life free of self loathing was alien to the mayor of Goodneighbor, a faraway daydream meant to stay just that; an impossible dream. Watching someone who had everything he had ever wanted just made Hancock feel physically sick. If someone absolutely commonplace like the singer in some dive bar could love a ghoul long term then maybe, just maybe, Kathy would’ve stayed that morning. Maybe there could’ve been a future between them, something as soft and as sweet as she was. As she is.
“Something wrong, John?”
Jasper took him out of his thoughts once again, but all he could muster was a broken, wet laugh. The vodka must have really been getting to him…
In an instant, Jasper’s hand was on his shoulder, a tether to the land of the living. The expression on his face was a mix of pity and something indiscernible, some unseen and shared experience in the brotherhood of ghouls. It was suddenly clear to Hancock that Jasper could see right through him, every minute insecurity was on display because they had been shared between them. When Jasper finally spoke again, it was from the heart. He asked, “what was she like?”
It took Hancock a moment to find the right words.
“She was like seeing the sun for the first time after going ghoul,” he was breathless, frantic; a dam had finally broken inside his chest. “She was gorgeous, and I mean really pre-war poster stunning. I’d never seen anything like her and I’m pretty damn afraid I’ll never see anything like her again.”
“Did she turn you down?” Jasper was drawn in, all wide black eyes with his elbows resting on the bar.
“Oh brother, I wish she had. She never made me feel like less than a person for bein’ a ghoul, not once. We flirted all the time, walking the line, and then suddenly one night, out of the blue, she asked me to dance. Now I don’t know about you, but back where I’m from pretty girls don’t just ask ghouls to dance. So I danced with her, I worked my magic and I got her all the way back up to my room, and then I stopped.”
Hancock’s mouth went dry. He hadn’t really cried in years, not since the days when he was still John McDonough but here in some dive bar out in the wastes of former Middlesex county he was really considering it. Jasper was sympathetic, but invested.
“Well, what did you do?” He urged, squeezing Hancock’s shoulder gently.
“I asked myself if I loved her.”
“Wait, what?”
“I paused and asked myself if I loved her. Looking at her, I realized I didn’t want whatever I had with her to end with a badly timed fling. At that moment I knew that I would follow her to the ends of the earth if she asked me to, so I swallowed my pride and dove in head first.”
“And then you ran away.”
Hancock laughed, “like a radstag at a gunner convention.”
For the first time since the two ghouls met, Jasper looked less than pleased. “But why would you run? She spent the night with you, so obviously the whole ghoul thing wasn’t as much of a problem as you assumed it was.” The logic was entirely sound, and Hancock found himself speechless yet again, unable to rebuke solid facts.
“Well brother, I guess I just assumed she wouldn’t want us to take it any further.”
Jasper returned to his usual, cheery tone with a smile and a soft laugh. “Of course. Well, did you ever see her again? Make sure she hated your guts as much as you thought she did?”
Hancock drained the remains of his glass, shaking his head and letting his gaze drift through the crowd. “Nope,” He drawled, popping the p with a gusto he reserved for late drunken nights, “That morning she had to run off and deal with real problems, bigger than who she was sleeping with for the night. She told me to meet her back at home and I ran wherever I knew she wouldn’t find me. Now, I’m here, drinking with you and trying to forget I ever knew her.”
“But you can’t, can you.” Jasper spoke plainly, no bite to his words. That just made Hancock absorb the guilt he felt all the more easily. “You will never forget her for as long as you live, and John, you and I both know you’ll be living a long, long time.”
“I suppose you’re right, brother, I suppose you’re right…” Hancock’s voice drifted through the small room, just a whisper under the roar of the radio and the thrum of excited, drunken hearts. “Her name is Kathrine, though I never called her that. Just Kathy, always just Kathy.” There was a dreamlike lull in his voice, filled with a million memories shared between the closest of friends. In that moment, it was like every chem he had taken that night disappeared from his system and every single drop of alcohol evaporated all at once. For the first time in weeks it was entirely clear what path he needed to take and where his travels would take him next: home. Not to Goodneighbor, but to wherever Kathy was.
Jasper smiled his charming, thin-lipped smile and lifted his hand from Hancocks shoulder, patting it a bit before standing from his bar stool and stretching upwards. “Well it looks like you have somewhere to be. Don’t let me keep you.”
Filled with a vigor he hadn’t felt for years, Hancock watched Jasper slip into the crowd of late night drinkers towards his wife but reached out and grabbed the ghouls wrist to stop him at the last minute.
“Jasper,” he muttered, black eyes meeting black eyes in a frenzied rush before Hancock released pressure, “thank you, brother, for everything.”
Jasper just shook Hancock’s hand loosely, smiling ear to ear. “The pleasure was mine, John. When you see your Kathy again, do me a favor and tell her what you told me, alright? Have a good night.” With that, Jasper was gone, another face in the dizzy, wonderful crowd of bodies.
A few minutes later Hancock was out the door, carrying with him his trusty duffel bag, as Jasper’s wife crooned gently into her microphone and the world fell in love. He had places to go and a lover to win back, no matter what it took.