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“Why didn’t you tell me, sunshine? You know I coulda helped.”
Hancock held onto Sole’s hand firmly, squeezing harder when he felt their fingers tremble with more intensity.
“Shhh.” He tried to quiet their choking breaths as their body convulsed again in response to the second dose of addictol he dared to give them. The ghoul shook his head as he saw the lack of effect the drug had on his partner.
“This shit ain’t no good, Sole. We’ve gotta get you to a doctor.” He wrapped his arm around their waist gently, and he urged their hand up and around his shoulders as he helped haul them to their feet from where they’d crumpled to the floor in pain. Unsteady as his companion was, Sole remained upright with him, leaning heavily on Hancock’s body as he guided them forward a few shaky steps.
Sole’s eyes were half-closed, their movements unsteady as the pair began a slow trek in Sanctuary’s direction. They couldn’t be more than two miles out thankfully; yet still, Sole wasn’t in the right state for that kinda distance. Hancock swallowed down his worries as best he could, clearing his throat as he tightened his grip on their waist and clenched his jaw.
God damn it, sunshine. I coulda stopped this. Coulda done somethin’, an’ you know that. How could ya let yourself get this bad when I was right here this whole time?
He couldn’t find it in him to be angry with them, not really. If anyone get’s this shit, it’s Hancock, but still… Did they not trust him or somethin’?
That thought hurt him more than if he’d been going through the withdrawals himself.
“So, a ghoul walks into a bar, right?” He began with a strained voice, distracting himself and them, and willing his words to have a humorous edge to them, rather than let the uneasiness take hold of his throat again, like it had when he’d witnessed Sole collapsing to the ground in front of him, convulsing after holding themself together for… what? Hours? Days? He couldn’t be sure how long they could go without using for it to get this bad. Hell, he didn’t know they even did chems in the first place.
Him.
Hancock.
The zombie king of drugs, booze, good times, and bad habits didn’t know his own friend, his companion, someone he cared so very much for was this far gone in their addiction. He only wished he knew. Which chem, how much of it, what he could’ve done to stop this. Why hadn’t they told him? Who the hell was he to judge anyone for this kinda shit? Sole knew his past more thoroughly than damn near anyone, so how could they keep him in the dark?
Same reason I keep doin’ the chems myself…
He knew what it was that held their tongue and sealed their lips. The very same thing that drove him over the edge of no return, and into the body and life he found himself in today.
Shame.
Not wanting nobody to worry.
Hancock made it clear to everyone in Goodneighbor and beyond what all he could handle, how much, and he talked about it often, owning that shit, if only to get everyone to shut up and quit worrying about him. Leave him be, let him keep his own safe distance from reality. Let him dull the voice in his head that used to rule his decisions, let him eviscerate that damn shame of his with a whole different state of mind, a new name, face and existence altogether.
Sole though… well, Sole was a little different, but also much the same. They did the opposite action for the same result. They kept their addiction in the dark, forcing everyone around them to believe that there wasn’t a damn thing in their life they needed to run from. That they were proud of who they were, who they are, what they’ve done, and Hancock never would’ve argued that. They should be proud. All they been through, all the good they’ve done, hell, sticking with him as long as they have, even knowing about his shit past self. He never would’ve guessed the way they were struggling, or why they’d do it to themself at all. They’d fooled even him with their act.
But there’s one thing that ruins schemes like theirs.
When shit like this happens.
When people see for real how far it’s gone, how long the addiction’s been unchecked, how you can’t function without it anymore. How reality doesn’t seem real, or it’s too real to be comfortable in when you’re not high. Hancock must’ve never known them when they weren’t addicted, he realized somberly as he hauled his friend along, hoisting them up as he felt their legs waver beneath them, practically dragging their sagging form towards Sanctuary as quickly as he could manage.
I’d’ve noticed the change in them if they’d started using when I was around. But I’ve just been blind this whole goddamn time.
“The bartender,” he huffed, attempting to continue with his meager jest, “He says ‘hey, we don’t serve ghouls here’, and so the ghoul, he says–”
Just as Hancock opened his mouth to reveal the punchline to the joke Sole’s probably heard about a million times by now, his boot catches, and Sole’s weight throws him off just enough that they both collapse into a heap on the hard ground, a cloud of dust bursting upwards around them, blurring Hancock’s already dazed vision before it was slowly whisked away by the cold evening breeze.
“Fuck.”
Hancock’s knee and one of his arms ached at the hard landing that he took in favor of slowing Sole’s descent. That’s all his partner needed right now. They were barely conscious as it was, and now he could see their weak grimace at the way he couldn’t keep their shoulder from a hard impact.
“I’m sorry, sunshine. Shit. I’m so sorry, I…" He rasped, holding back a cough at the dust as his eyes met theirs, half open, dazed, and mere slivers under their lowered brows, furrowed with pain.
“Dammit. Why, sunshine, why didn’t you tell me? I could help. You know I could help. Before this– before it came to this, got this bad.”
He hauled himself into a seated position, gently grasping at their shoulders as he tried to do the same for them, guiding their weak body to rest back against the dried stump behind them.
“What was it, sweetheart?“ He drew a calloused hand up to their face, wiping it free of dust as his desperate voice carried out into the bleakness of the wasteland.
"Which one was it? Maybe I got it, but I don’t wanna overdo it with ya, don’t wanna give ya the wrong thing, make for a bad reaction. You just gotta tell me this one thing, I promise, you know I can’t judge you for it. No one else needs to know. I’ve always got your back, you know that.”
His dark eyes pleaded with them as their own rolled up into the back of their skull, and their convulsions picked up again, shuddering with much more than just the cold. Hancock reached his arms behind him anyway, pulling at the sleeves of his coat and prying it from his shoulders to instead wrap it around his partner.
“Dammit, I wish you could talk to me. You’re givin’ me a real fright here, not gonna lie. Stay with me, alright? Stay here. You can’t go anywhere. Not yet, not if I’ve got anything to say about it.” His roughened voice ranged from a frightened plea to a growling promise as he finished securing the coat around their body, their convulsions lessening to little tremors as his warmth spread over them.
With a renewed determination, Hancock wrapped an arm firmly around their waist and hauled them up once more, their weight significantly heavier than before, their strength failing them, even as he took the first few steps towards Sanctuary once again.
“You’re gonna outlive me, yeah?” He said through gritted teeth, as gently as he could manage, “You deserve to. You’ve made it two hundred years, what’s another hundred or so, huh? Yeah, you’ll be fine. This can’t kill ya. It can’t. Not you, Sole.”
Hancock grunted with each step, his muscles aching with the strain of it, and he began to feel the overwhelming need to take a hit of something to pick himself up in this time of need, of desperation. But how could he? Not in front of Sole. Not when it’s that shit that did this to them in the first place. Even the thought of it made his stomach turn.
Hancock hadn’t gone a day in his life since becoming a ghoul without using chems at least once a day, but now, even the thought made him sick.
“We’ll both change after this, m’kay? You won’t do it alone, but I ain’t gonna let this shit happen again, you hear me? Not since we’ve–”
“Hancock?”
Preston’s voice rang out over the hill, and the ghoul nearly collapsed in relief at the sight of the curious minuteman.
“It’s Sole!” He rasped, out of breath, “They need Curie. Now.”
“What?” Preston’s brown eyes went wide at the statement, at the sight of his incapacitated General. “W-what’s wrong with them?”
“Withdrawals.”
“…What?” The minuteman’s eyes flashed with anger and his brows sat low over the glowing coals of fury below. “What did you do , Hancock?”
“It wasn’t me . You really think I would’ve let this shit happen?” Hancock growled, his own jet black irises reflecting Preston’s fury. “I–I didn’t know. But that doesn’t fucking matter now, so why don’t you step down from your high horse and give me a fucking hand .”
His nostrils flared, but Preston moved quickly, hoisting Sole up into his arms and taking them over the hill to the town. Hancock snorted, catching his breath only for a moment before following after the pair. Quickly, he stepped forward to pull his coat more effectively around his companion before running ahead to tell Curie the situation as soon as he could.
They’re gonna be alright. He told himself firmly. Now they’re here. Everything will be fine, it’ll be okay. Sole will be okay.
Hancock willed his thoughts to be true as he glanced over his shoulder once more, afraid to let his companion out of his sight even as he jogged ahead.
–
Hancock’s hand squeezed Sole’s tightly as he heard them suck in a breath, as their tired, yet brilliant eyes slowly blinked awake.
“Sunshine…” He whispered, relief glistening in his eyes as they opened theirs for the first time in over a day.
“Hey.” They said quietly, their voice strained.
“Hey.” He replied, relief present in his every breath, every movement, as he brought his other hand to grasp at theirs as well, his roughened fingers rubbing over their knuckles with insistent affection.
“So… you gonna tell me?” They asked.
“T-tell you? Tell you what, sweetheart?” Concern lined his marred face as he leaned closer to his companion, holding his breath in anticipation.
“What does the ghoul say to that rude bartender?”