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Nora stumbled towards the Starlight Drive In as dusk descended on the wasteland. She adjusted her rucksack and wiped at her sweat and tear soaked face with a trembling hand.
Her skin felt hot to the touch and the cottonmouth feeling was getting worse. The cut on her shoulder and the bullet wound on her inner thigh battled for her attention. She was out of stimpaks, purified water, and food. She had one Jet canister left — she had already used one back at the Fraternal Post — but this one was Hancock’s special stash. He palmed it to her on her birthday and winked rakishly at her when she rolled her eyes at the gesture. Now though…if this Jet was all that stood between her and some semblance of relief then Nora needed to thank Hancock ten times over for the small gift.
She heaved her shoulder against the door to the storage room. The recent Spring rad storms had warped the wood frame which made the door stick. Nora slammed into the door three times before it finally opened wide enough for her to slip inside. She kicked the door closed which sent up a flurry of dust that stuck to her sweat damp face.
The bed in the corner lacked bedding but the mattress and headboard were still in good condition and they were dry. Due to the rainy Spring weather, everything out in the wasteland was either cold and damp or starting to grow mold. The storage room behind the movie screen at the Starlight Drive in was one of the last places outside of Diamond City or Goodneighbor that offered any semblance of safety and comfort, and that’s what Nora needed most right now.
She put her things at the foot of the bed and then pulled out her sleeping bag, a heavy wool blanket, and a half empty rum bottle that she had scavenged from the Lexington Super Duper Mart before the feral ghouls there sent her running for the hills. Then she hobbled over to the small radio sitting on a metal shelf along the right wall and turned it on. The soft and slightly static sound of Diamond City Radio came out. She could’ve fiddled with the antennae until the quality was better but she was too tired to care. The radio mostly served as white noise so she could sleep.
Must you do everything to draw attention to our position? X6-88’s emotionless voice echoed in her head.
She gritted her teeth and pushed the memories of her brief but hellish time as an Institute Courser out of her mind. That was three years ago. Nora had grown. She was a different person. The pain and trauma she endured back then needed to stay in the past. So just to make a point, Nora turned the radio up a little louder. If Raiders came for her in the night because they heard the radio, then at least she’d go out fighting.
No. Dammit. No. This was reckless.
This reckless and self destructive line of thinking is what led her to attempt suicide. She couldn’t be reckless here. As painful as the silence was to endure, Nora knew that her death would destroy the people she loved. If she couldn’t muster up the energy to care about herself, then she needed to focus on taking care of herself for their sake. She turned the radio off in a huff and then leaned forward on a sturdy metal shelf that stood up against the far wall.
Depression was a helluva thing. She knew herself well enough that she didn’t think she was back at that point again. She wasn’t suicidal per se. It had just been a shit week all around and Nora was wallowing in the darkness of it all.
She unbuttoned her pants and slid the canvas material off her thighs. The lightweight fabric didn’t stick to wounds like cotton, nor did it constrict her movement like denim. She found them neatly folded in the National Guard checkpoint a few clicks East of where she was now. The military print had mostly faded out to a sheer olive green tone. They were ugly as sin but they were durable, comfortable, and … now soaked with blood. Damnit.
The wound in question started bleeding immediately. A damn Super Mutant got a good shot in when she and Preston were clearing out the Fraternal Post 115. That place was a revolving door of bad news. Between the Super Mutant raids, the migrating Raider gangs, and the occasional Feral Ghoul infestation coming down from Cambridge, the Minutemen recieved calls over the radio at least weekly about that location.
The bullet wound wasn’t large and it passed through her muscle while missing her femoral artery, but it felt like someone was burning her with a cigarette lighter each time she moved or tried to walk. She was out of antibiotics, stims, and Med-X and there was no way in hell that she could haul herself over to the diner up the hill. She was in survival mode.
Nora took an aluminum can from the nearby shelf and poured three fingers of rum into it. She put the bandages into the can to soak up the alcohol and then she took a pull from the bottle herself. The rum was sweet but it was cheap so it burned all the way down her throat. She was just thankful that it wasn’t coconut flavored. Coconut rum tasted like suntan lotion and she couldn’t stomach the stuff.
She set the bottle down and pulled off her jacket and long-sleeved shirt. Since the garment was made out of cotton, the damn thing stuck to the deep gash in her shoulder. The wound came courtesy of a Super Mutant’s machete trap. Who knew that they could even set traps? Granted, it was a crude trap that equated to a machete hanging from the top of a doorway by a rope, but the damn thing worked on her. At least this blade wasn’t poisoned.
“One…two…” She murmured and she ripped her shirt up her torso and off her shoulders. The fabric tore away from the wound which pulled the clotted blood away like picking a scab which set the whole thing bleeding all over again.
Tears welled in her eyes from this kind of pain. The raw ache in her shoulder reminded her of Virgil’s crazed mutant mind as he literally tossed her into the fire like a brahmin steak. She still felt the burns if she let her mind dwell on that day for too long. Sometimes, her neck would get a little stiff as well. And then those memories and the aftermath of what happened to her at the Institute would lead her down the dark lonely road. She clenched her thighs together and sobbed while she placed one alcohol-soaked bandage on her shoulder.
The pain was raw and blistering. Nora gritted her teeth and forced herself to keep going. The second bandage didn’t hurt as bad and the third was merely wet. She took a long scarf that Ellie had given her as a birthday present and wrapped the scarf around her shoulder several times and then tied the ends beneath her armpit. It took her a couple of tries as she was working with only one hand, but she had taken up crocheting this past winter which made her fingers nimble.
“Fuck…” She moaned softly. The pain deadened to a dull throb and she felt her body relax a little.
She took another pull from the rum bottle and braced her leg up on the metal bed frame. The bullet wound was on the top of her upper thigh about two inches below her pelvic bone and the exit wound came out four inches below her right buttocks. The mutant was shooting from the second floor balcony which only added to her fortune. If the roles had been reversed, there’d be a good chance that the bullet would’ve gotten lodged in her pelvis or severed an artery.
Nora put the last two pieces of alcohol soaked fabric over the wounds and she gripped the left side of the mattress so she didn’t thrash off the bed from the pain. There were far more nerve endings near this wound and the pain almost made her black out. She took her knife and cut the sleeves off her bloodstained shirt and then she split the sleeves open and cut them into four separate pieces. She tied the pieces together and wrapped the fabric around her thigh similar to a tourniquet.
Despite the sheen of sweat on her skin, Nora shivered and wrapped the wool blanket around her body and leaned back against the wall. She had done as much as possible in terms of healing. Now she just had to wait. Finishing the rum would help put her to sleep, but she also had one other thing that might help as well.
Nora reached into her bag and withdrew a small red inhaler. This Jet was designer — one of Hancock’s favorite mixes — and he gave it to Nora for her birthday.
“I know you ain’t a user but if you ever wanna give it a try, I want your first time to be from me.”
She rolled her eyes at him when he said that. Nora wasn’t a chem user, outside of Med-X for medicinal use, but maybe trying it now wouldn’t be a bad idea. There was nobody else here. There’d be nobody else to judge her if she got blitzed off her ass. Besides, Jet had pain relieving qualities and she had already done it once to help Preston from getting overwhelmed with Super Mutants. What made this time any different?. Sure, Jet wasn’t as good as Med-X but if she was too high to feel the pain then maybe she could get some sleep.
Nora’s eyes flitted up towards the door almost daring someone to come in right now. Her stomach churned in anticipation and anxiety. It felt similar to the first time she smoked pot. She knew what she was doing was illegal, but she didn’t care. She felt mischievous and a little naughty.
“Fuck it.” She mumbled and she brought the canister to her lips.
She pressed down on the aerosol canister and breathed in through her mouth. The vapor filled her lungs and it made her eyes water but she exhaled and a faint blue cloud flowed out between her lips.
Nora laid back on her sleeping bag and snuggled into her thick blanket. The bed felt like it was floating, and when Nora closed her eyes, she imagined that she was lying on a hammock as the dead leaves swirled around her in the pleasant breeze. A smile came to her lips and the canister fell out of her hand. One hit was more than enough. She felt amazing. The sensation was similar to pot — her entire body felt relaxed and she couldn’t remember what had made her upset — but the mild tactile hallucination of the swaying bed was nice too.
She closed her eyes and surrendered her fears, insecurities, and anxieties. She felt too fucking good to care about anything right now.
This feeling was as close to happiness as she could get.
Hancock ran up to the Starlight Drive In at a loping jog. He heard the broadcast over the Minutemen Radio. The message was coded but everyone who knew of Nora’s past work with the Railroad knew what it meant.
“Wanderer is lost. Last seen heading North from Fraternal Post 115 through Cambridge and on towards Concord. She did not check in with the Minutemen at the Museum of Freedom. She might be injured. If you see her, broadcast her status over Radio Freedom.
Hancock left Goodneighbor at a dead run. He stopped by Daisy only to tell her that she was in charge and that an emergency came up. He made it to Cambridge in record time and he did a sweep of the place only to find the place filled with dead mutants. Hancock checked Nora’s usual hangouts. He popped back to Diamond City but nobody had seen her in weeks. The small settlement of Hangman’s Alley hadn’t seen her and neither had the Taffington Boathouse. By the time he reached the Starlight Drive In, dawn was about to break and his anxiety was running high.
“Fuck sunshine…where the hell are ya?” He murmured to himself.
He closed his eyes and tried to think like Nora. If she was nursing injuries or feeling particularly vulnerable, she’d be looking for a place that was secluded and out of the way. A place to hole up in. A safe house of sorts. Maybe even a place that she was familiar with. A place where she had gone a couple times before to nurse some injuries….
Hancock made his way towards the Drive In. If Nora wasn’t there then he’d have a cause to start panicking. But he was willing to bet his life that she was there. He knew Nora’s behavior. He also knew what it was like to want to crawl in a hole and disappear from the world for a while.
He approached the steel door and tried the handle. Someone had locked it from the inside and he forgot to grab the key from his office before he left Goodneighbor.
“Sunshine, you in there?” he asked loudly.
A muffled but sleepy reply answered back, “Mmm fine … John. Just sleeping.”
Her voice didn’t sound normal. There was a distinct slur and she emphasized the wrong parts of her words. She sounded drunk and possibly high.
“Can I come in and keep you company?” he asked. Then he injected some light flirtatious levity into his tone. “I can help keep you warm. Seems like Spring is late to the party this year.”
Nora didn’t answer but he did hear a sob catch in her throat. It was a sound that tore his own heart out. It was something that he never wanted to hear from her mouth.
“Please let me in, Nora. You don’t sound okay.”
There was more silence and then he heard retching and something liquid hitting the inside of a metal bucket.
“Shit.” he snarled. “Now all sorts of things ran through his head. If Nora was sick and she was in some sort of distress, she could’ve tried to OD again. That would make sense as to why she holed herself up out here. And they were far enough away from Goodneighbor that the couple doses of addictol that he carried on him might not be enough.”
The ghoul stepped back a few paces, then strode forward, and stomped his heel right above the door knob. The frame split but the door scraped across the concrete floor. He exhaled, grunted in annoyance, and kicked one more time which sent slivers of wood out like a small grenade. One of the hinges completely broke and so he had to half-pick up the door and push it open so he could slide through. He forced the door back into place and Nora’s glassy eyes and tear-streaked face looked back at him.
The room smelled of raw alcohol, vomit, Jet fumes, and sweat. Nora’s hair had fallen out of her ponytail and it looked matted and greasy in the low light. He took in every detail like he had just stumbled onto a crime scene. Her eyes were dull and glassy and he smelled rum coming from an empty aluminum can. Her things were piled neatly next to the bed but the handful of blood stained bandages and the slight metallic smell of Nora’s blood told him that she needed medical attention. A Jet canister laid just out of reach from her fingers and she was shivering beneath the blanket.
He sighed in relief. She looked rough but she wasn’t showing any signs of an overdose. “When you party, you party real hard, sunshine.”
She chuckled weakly and that one flash of mirth crossed her face like a comet. But then reality set in again and she slumped over onto her side. Her eyes were hollow and empty once again and she gestured vaguely at the ground.
“’m stoned.” She muttered. “And drunk.”
Hancock carefully stepped around the artifacts on the ground. At least there wasn’t blood in her vomit. Aside from being fucked up now and hung over later, she’d be fine. He climbed onto the bed next to her and rested his back against the concrete wall. He held out his gnarled hand in a silent request and Nora took it, curled against him, and rested her head in his lap.
“Ya look like you had a helluva bad day.”
Nora nodded. “Preston ‘nd me ran into mutants at the —'' She closed her eyes and her head lolled back so she could glance up at Hancock. “God … what the fuck was that place called? The — the F-f-f …” She sighed in frustration. “‘Ny way…Muties cornered us. We killed them but I got hurt. I didn’t know it was bad until after Preston left to go back to the Castle.”
Hancock gently set Nora’s head on the bed so he could get up and pilfer the supplies that he left on the metal shelves.
“Where are your injuries, sunshine?”
“M’leg. I got shot in the thigh. The bullet passed clean through, and my shoulder caught a machete. That one hurts the worst ‘nd so I couldn’t make it back to Sanctuary. ‘m out of stims and I don’t have the energy to go up the hill to the diner to get more.”
“What kinda chems did you take?” he asked. “Any Med-X? X-Cell? Psycho?” He swallowed and injected a false cheery humor into the last one, “Buffout?”
“None o’ them. Just the Jet you gave me on …” She tried to sit up but she lurched to the side, “I don’ feel good.”
Nora reached for the bucket and puked again. Less liquid came out this time and Hancock grabbed several cans of purified water, the last of the Fancy Lad Snack Cakes, and a bottle of tarberry wine.
“The nausea will pass once you drink a little water.” He said. “Your blood sugar is probably droppin’ too. Can I take yer pulse?”
Nora nodded and Hancock pressed two fingers against the artery in her neck. Her pulse was strong but a little fast on account of the Jet and the trauma she sustained from her injuries.
“You’ll feel better soon sunshine. You got nothin’ to worry about.”
“No…I don’t feel good.” She emphasized the word with sudden sober clarity and her voice cracked. “I feel…empty John. I hate myself. I’m in a hole and I don’t want to feel anything right now.”
The sob that tore from her chest was raw and intense. Nora wanted to roll away from him and burrow in the corner wrapped in her wool blanket cocoon, but the Jet had left her too stoned and her coordination too sloppy to do anything but loll around like a puppet with cut strings.
He sighed and gently took Nora’s feverish hand in his. Her eyes looked almost as empty as when Hancock had brought her back from the brink of death. He was just thankful that Nora hadn’t felt the need to go that far again.
“D’you wanna talk about it? Was there something that kinda triggered this?”
Nora blinked and once again her movement was tortuously slow. “It’s ’n my bag. Front pocket. I found it with Preston at the Fraternal Post.”
Hancock unzipped the front flap and fished out the only item that was there. It was a yellowed and folded piece of paper. He gently opened it and read the typewriter font that was starting to fade into a faint grey. The paper looked like a speech. He skimmed the words and understood that the speech was yet another pro-war speech from before the bombs fell, but this one, lacked the self-aggrandizing nationalism and had a more melancholic tone, especially towards the end.
“War. War never changes.” He read aloud and then he looked at Nora’s face. Tears were starting to gather in her eyes. “You know who wrote this?”
The tears spilled and her voice cracked. “Nate…”
“Shit sunshine…” He reached into his coat and passed her his Mentats tin.
“I don’t wanna think. I’ve been thinking too much lately.”
“These ain’t the thinkin’ kind. They’ll help you say what you wanna say. They help you communicate. I take them when my mind’s just full of shit and I can’t piece any of it out. Sometimes it helps to air your issues aloud, ya feel me?”
Nora picked a small purple tablet out of the tin and put it on her tongue. Her tongue tasted a mixture of artificial grape and something sour but she rubbed her tongue along the roof of her mouth and along her gums which made her mouth tingle.
“Now drink some water.” Hancock said.
She popped the tab and drank it slowly but in steady gulps until it was gone. Hancock took the empty can from her and set it off to the side.
The dull sheen in Nora’s eyes was starting to fade and now her gaze was intense and disarming. The mentats must have kicked in.
“Are you disappointed in me?”
Hancock flinched. “W-what? Hell no! Why would I be disappointed in you?”
“Because I ran away instead of coming to you. I ran off to the wastes while I’m in a depressive state. I could’ve gotten attacked by raiders. Or —“
Hancock cut her off and pressed his finger to her lips. “I ain’t disappointed. I ain’t mad. But I did get a little scared when I heard you inside and found the door locked. I just don’t like seeing you like this…like you’re lost in the cold and dark world. I wanna help bring you back to the light. I love you sunshine.”
She smiled and nuzzled her head in his lap. “I love you too. Just … please understand that I can’t control when I get this way. It just happens sometimes and I have to ride it out. I was already feeling low before all of this. But then I was reminded of a lot … and it’s too much. It’s been a year since —”
Her voice caught in her throat and more tears slid down her face. “I can still feel him John. Sometimes when you’re with me, I can smell him on you … I can smell the mint on your breath. I feel him touch me when you touch me. When you touch me or talk to me, I sometimes feel like I’m b-back there and … I — I’m sorry.”
Hancock took in a sharp breath, “Fuck Nora…You gotta share these things. I had no idea you were still dealin’ with this. How long have you been experiencing those kinds of flashbacks?”
“Not too long.” She mumbled. “Started two or three weeks ago I think. It’s hard for me to be away from you because I start thinkin’ that this past year has been just a dream and I’ll wake up back in the Institute.”
“Is that why you came here?” Hancock asked. “Preston tipped us off over the Minutemen Radio that you needed help. The first thing that I assume when I hear someone needs help and I encounter a locked door is that someone’s experiencing a crisis. I — I thought that —“
She frowned when she realized just what Hancock had thought. Then a wave of guilt slammed into her as she thought back to that night. She could’ve died had Hancock not been there. She wanted to die because she didn’t think that she was worthy of love after the Institute had nearly broken her and corrupted her into a tool just like their synths. She thought about the man — the monster — whose name she would never say so she didn’t humanize him by giving him a name.
“I wasn’t going to kill myself.” She said in a small voice. “I mean … if my wounds get infected and I get blood poisoning or something, then that’s no good, but I came here because the place reminds me of you. I was gonna sleep here for a bit and hobble back to Goodneighbor. But the pain was raw and intense and I just … I didn’t wanna feel anymore. So I took the Jet and it was so good.”
Hancock laughed and he ran his hand through her greasy and matted hair like he was touching delicate silk. “Fuck yeah it was. I knew you’d like it. I’m just sad that I didn’t get to experience it with you.”
Hancock chuckled and set the silver dinner tray full of vials, clean cloth, and a mortar full of white peppermint-smelling ointment on the floor. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her with a little more force. She sighed and kissed him back. Her eyes were half-lidded when they pulled away and her lip shone with the ghoul’s residual saliva.
“I fuckin’ love you.” She murmured to Hancock.
“And I fuckin’ love you, sunshine.”
“M’kay.” She smiled and lolled her head back onto a pile of clothes she used as a makeshift pillow. “M’gonna pass out again. You have my permission to touch me …” She gestured vaguely at her shoulder and her upper thigh. “J’st no funny business. Kay John? I wanna be awake for that.”
“I hear you loud and clear sunshine.” Hancock replied. “Don’t worry. Sleep well. You got me watchin’ your back.”
Later that evening, Nora awoke with a splitting headache and actual medical bandages wrapped around her thigh and shoulder.
“John?” She tried to open her eyes but the room spun and her stomach churned. “Oh…oh no.”
Hancock was already at her side and slid a bucket in front of her face as she puked up the rum from the night before. She spit a few times, waited for a few seconds until her body decided that she was done getting sick, and then she leaned away from him to discreetly wipe her mouth on a spare rag.
“Thanks … sorry.” She murmured. “That’s disgusting.”
“Ain’t nothin’ unusual about gettin’ a little sick after a bender.” He replied. “Lemme get you some water.”
Nora blinked several times until her eyes adjusted to the bright glare coming from the open doorway.
“Did you kick the door down?”
“Maybe a little. Ain’t nothin a few nails and a hammer won’t fix. Besides, you locked yourself in and I got concerned.” He replied, passing her the water. Then he gently untied the bandage at her shoulder and slowly peeled it away from her wound. The pain was much more manageable but the cut was still pink and it leaked clear fluid. The ghoul nodded in satisfaction and re-wrapped Nora’s bandage.
“Don’t you have keys to this place?”
“I do but I left them back at Goodneighbor.”
“And you don’t know how to pick a lock?” She asked with a teasing grin.
He held his hands up in surrender, “Yeah yeah. I get it! But I don’t exactly thinkin’ straight when I hear that my girl is MIA after a job.”
Nora pursed her lips in shame. “Sorry about that.”
Hancock shook his head. “There’s nothin’ to be sorry about Nora.
“Did you let Preston know that I’m okay? He’s probably worried. He’s dealt with depression too, you know.”
“I didn’t know that. He and I don’t really see eye-to-eye on most things, but I let the folks at The Castle know and they said they’d get the word out through their radio.”
Nora leaned into Hancock’s side when he sat on the bed. She knew that they’d need to start making their way back to Goodneighbor sooner rather than later. It was never a good idea to stay in one place for too long. Raiders would often ambush traders or travelers in the middle of the night. Hancock could probably hold his own against a modest group. but Nora wasn’t in any shape to fight. Then again, she wasn’t in any shape to do much at all.
“Do you mind if we stay here until tomorrow morning?”
“Nah I don’t mind. But what’s happenin’ tomorrow morning?” Hancock asked.
“Nothing. I just —“ Nora blushed and she felt stupid. “It’s supposed to be a cloudless night tonight and I’d love to climb to the top of the Drive-In screen and stargaze. You don’t get as good of a view when you’re in Goodneighbor on account of the skyscrapers and the highway overpass, and you can’t see any stars at all in Diamond City. The floodlights drown them all out.”
“Stargazing?” Hancock repeated. “I like that, sunshine. Sounds … I don’t know … romantic. Sounds like the stuff Nicky would like.”
“I’m not trying to turn you into him, you know.”
“I know.” Hancock replied. “I just meant that I want to do stuff with you that’s not all sex, drugs, and rock n’ roll.”
Nora snickered. “Really?”
“Yeah!” Hancock insisted. “I mean…the sex we can keep. We both like it. And the drugs, well —“
Nora giggled. That sound alone thrilled Hancock to no end. “Let’s just relax here so I can get over this hangover, and then we’ll just play it by ear. Okay?”
“Sounds good to me, sunshine.”
Nora smiled and she turned to kiss Hancock. The kiss was gentle and chaste, and for once, Hancock didn’t try to make it anything more.
“Thank you.” she murmured.
“For what?”
Nora opened up one eye and looked at Hancock. “For being so … I don’t know … ride or die for me I guess.”
Hancock chuckled. “Ride or die? Is that a Pre-War term I’m not familiar with?”
“Well it’s a term that’s more about women being supportive of their partner’s unhealthy, dangerous lifestyle, but I take it to mean that someone has always got your back.”
Hancock nodded as he pulled Nora against his chest. “I kind of like that, sunshine.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He stated. “Ride or die. Sounds like a good philosophy to me.”
For the rest of the day, Hancock held Nora and they talked about everything and nothing. When Nora slept, Hancock watched over her. He listened to her strong heartbeat and watched as her chest rose and fell in a steady, peaceful rhythm. It was something he’d never take for granted again. Nora meant the world to him, and seeing her safe was worth more to him than all of the caps in Goodneighbor.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, Hancock gently brushed back the hair around her face and kissed the faint pink scar that stretched from her temple to her cheekbone. The scar was a vestige of Nora’s previous trauma at the Institute’s hands, and although Nora had forgiven them, Hancock never could. When Nora awoke, her eyes looked clearer and her face gained back most of its lost color. Hancock checked her bandages and was satisfied to see that her wounds were healing.
“How ya feelin’?”
“Better.” Nora said. She sat up and gently stretched. Her PipBoy told her that it was nearly 6:30pm and it was dark enough to see some stars.
“You ready?” Nora asked Hancock as she held out her hand.
“I’m always ready when I’m with you, sunshine.”
His hand entwined with hers. Mottled rough skin contrasted against her smooth sun-tanned complexion. They were a lesson in contrast and Nora wouldn’t have had it any other way.
Nora kissed Hancock’s knuckles and she smiled. “C’mon. Let’s go see some stars.”