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The room was musty, the smell of rust drowning her thoughts out. Everything was dim, preventing them from seeing anything past a few feet. The resistance from the mutants was heavy and brutal and both Sweetpea and Hancock were running low on ammo.
“You need to get behind that wall and into the other room,” Hancock shouted over his shoulder. Sweetpea landed one last to a mutants head in the distance, reloading her rifle.
“Yeah, and leave your skinny ass to take them on?” She shook her head, steadying her aim again. The fight was long, Sweetpea wasting almost all of her stimpacks on her poorly bandaged arm. They were being cornered fast, both their backs against the wall.
“You got an idea?” Sweetpea took out her ten millimeter, cocking the weapon back. A soft beeping was heard in the distance and both muttered a curse under their breath.
Another blast from his shotgun,“You could stay in that room I was talkin’ about.” Sweetpea replied with a hard no, shooting a mutie in the head again.
“We’ll split up, I snipe from the back, you keep yourself safe.” He nodded, moving forward as he took cover behind a few metal crates.
The beeping had gotten closer, a faint red glow pulsing through the dust and smoke. The beat of her heart pounded in her ears, her body going numb. Over the span of a few seconds, Hancock had vaulted over the boxes, walking into the hoard of super mutants, firing relentlessly. He was oblivious to the red glow growing near to him.
She had tried to scream, to tell him to turn around and run but her lips moved in hallow motions, the lump in her throat suffocating her. Back against the wall, she watched the fear run through his eyes before the room burned orange. Ears ringing, she quickly the room for survivors. The two mutants met the barrel of her gun, their brain matter painting the floors and walls.
Mind still in a haze, she dropped her gun and sprinted to Hancock’s still body. Hands finally granting her access for movement, she dropped to her knees and shook his body, checking for a pulse. Once she found a slow pulse, she stabbed him with a stimpack then frantically threw it to the side.
“Wake up,” the tears now began to roll down her cheeks, off her chin and onto his jacket, “please just wake up.” She was now shaking, fingers clumsily grabbing a bandage and ointment from her pack. Being a field medic in the military had let her work with ease despite the anxiety and worry unwinding her composure one vein at a time.
Hancock wasn’t gone, she knew that for sure. His heart beat was slow but steady. Yet she couldn’t help herself from worrying over him, constantly checking the bandages.
Instead, Sweetpea waited with tears soaking her lower face and neck, her knees growing cold from the floor. She waited for some time before his heavy breathing made her jerk back to him, fingers running over his face, checking his pulse again from habit.
A heavy cough burst through him, his body heaving up and he sat up slightly, using his elbows to prop himself up. Sweetpea pulled him in, wrapping her arms around his frail body. He was shaking, she could feel it.
“You asshole…” she whispered on the crook of his neck, shaking her head.
Instead of a witty remark as she expected, she felt her shoulder dampening from his tears. Immediately after her realization, she pulled back to look at his face. He wouldn’t meet her eyes and instead shook his head.
A quiet sorry was all he said before she helped him onto his feet. Carrying his weight, they made their way back to Red Rocket in silence, both thinking about what this day could have been like.
Seeing the situation, Curie immediately rushed to their side, rushing Hancock to a bed despite him insisting he had recovered. Sweetpea watched Curie check the damage to his head and asses to the wounds that she had missed in the hysteria. Soon after she left, happy with the outcome with a promise of a speedy recovery.
“Fifi…” His voice croaked out from beneath a blanket. She held up her hand, stopping his words mid sentence. She sat on the edge of the bed, patting his leg.
“Don’t need to say anything, Hancock,” he nodded, still looking like he needed to say something, “just rest up.”