There was no warning sign, no back-up plan; nothing to prepare her for any of this.

Rebecca had been an organizer, a planner, and an action-taker all of her life. That was the entire premise of why she decided to pursue her passions and study law while at school. Long before she had Shaun, and even before she had met Nate during her university years, she was someone who didn't easily shy away. Yet she somehow found herself in foreign territory now.

What was she supposed to do? Every gut instinct residing within was urging her to confront the source of her unease and discomfort.

But… no.

It wasn't at all discomfort that she felt; definitely not. He worked to encourage her to press beyond all that resigned negativity. She had grown accustomed to an embittered sadness and lonesome period over the course of the last many months that spurned her motivation to keep tailing her enemies, but her determination toward these goals were what motivated him to persist with her. That was precisely the problem.

The circumstances that drew them together weren't mere chance. Rebecca wouldn't stand to believe that. For all of her logistics and tactical shrewdness in the face of overwhelming threats looming throughout the Commonwealth, it felt as if she was succumbing to a fool's allure for treasure that wasn't rightfully hers to claim.

How could she be losing her grip now of all times? After all the horrendous bloodshed and betrayal; the tortured screams she still heard at night of Raiders' helpless victims beyond her reach, the vicious man-made abominations crawling the Wasteland that she was forced to contend with each run that was made for supplies, and the hollow echoes of her heart's cadence that she believed would remain severed from happiness forevermore. She couldn't afford the luxury of carelessness, especially when it came to her people-relations.

Besides, she didn't deserve another chance. Not when each day that passed was another day that her precious little boy, Shaun, was still in the godforsaken hands of despicable Institute murderers and kidnappers. Not when every step she took toward her baby met an obstacle that forced her hand to yet another detour that prevented her from fulfilling her promise. It was difficult, she was beginning to lose sight of the hope against such impossible odds. Rebecca's inner turmoil was prompting automated paces through the desolate foothills that led back to where this nightmare all began…. Sanctuary.

How ironic. Though it had stemmed many beloved and anguished memories for all that she had nurtured and lost, Rebecca and the townsfolk were beginning to call the mending colony a 'home' again. It was greatly encouraging for her to know that genuinely good-hearted people from all walks of life could collaboratively work to piece together even the most shattered vista into a warm and welcoming refuge for any that needed it.

She decided to tune back in after registering the slightly heavier shuffles of ornate black leather beside her that identified themselves as part of the subject in question.

Hancock.

Rebecca had shifted her eyes to observe him stalwartly marching alongside, his gaze honed on to the horizon, firm and purposeful, but with an intensive focus as if he was searching for something. He must have felt her inspections upon him and crooked his neck slightly to meet her critical stare with one of his own.

Her soft cerulean eyes regarded him kindly. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah. Yeah, everything's good," Hancock replied gruffly.

Rebecca nodded in acknowledgment. Despite the fact that she could sense something was amiss with him – she had been a wife and a mother, after all – it was no business of hers to pry into a man's life. Friends as they may be, she still didn't know him too well.

He had revealed a very tragic fragment of his past regarding his bad blood and the involvement of his brother, McDonough, in the mass-slaughtering of Diamond City's ghoul civilians many years ago; his shame with being a bystander for so long, and previous hesitance with helping those most in need of support.

This was understandable to her as she knew how difficult it was for folks she knew before the Great War to step up and make the right choices under pressure. One could have hoped that a nuclear holocaust might serve at least some common unity between people, but it turns out that even the grimmest of events would bring out the worst kind of characters like Vic, McDonough, and Kellogg.

Hancock had more than redeemed himself for any transgressions past in her eyes. The work that they were a living part of every day: rebuilding the Minutemen faction, cleansing abandoned outposts of pillaging thugs and mutated vermin, and serving as the often uncredited vigilantes of the Wastes, fighting to preserve the last vestiges of hope and good in those still willing to challenge chaos. All the instances where he threw himself down in front of her in order to protect her from harm hadn't gone unnoticed and she admired him greatly for it.

They began their approach toward the partially-collapsed bridge that sanctioned the settlement from most immediate hostilities. Once at the crossing, Rebecca spotted a few bodies that looked to be clothed in Raider garb.

Good. At least the armaments that I set up seem to be doing their job properly.

Hancock peered toward her. "Back in Sanctuary Hills again, eh?"

"Mm-hmm. There's so much work that still needs to be done to get this place fully functional for residents again. I don't want to settle for mediocrity when these good people are just looking to start their lives over by coming here, you know?"

Hancock's black irises glistened briefly. "Look," he said. "I think you should know that I have a deep respect for what you're doing here. It can't be easy coming back to relive all this devastation over and over again, but you manage to push those old constructs aside for the sake of making the most of what is left."

His mouth curled into an earnest, heart-stopping smile. "That's meaningful for these folks and it's damn well amazing to me."

Rebecca's heart skipped like a stone on water. She certainly didn't have to feel satisfactory in her efforts to earn his appreciation. Her face flushed slightly. "Thanks," she muttered.

How could she say anything more without sounding like a flustered schoolgirl? It didn't used to be this way between them. Once, she had simply invited a smart-mouthed ghoul out of Goodneighbor, one who was longing to sharpen his skills in the wilds, for a slew of unexpected adventures. She had his back while he had hers and it was a pleasant, but friendly camaraderie between two drifters seeking security in the unpredictable content of the Commonwealth.

Now she felt like a Nuka-Cola that someone had shaken before popping the cap, ready to burst at any moment. She experienced strokes of intense heat when they caught glimpses of each other after every run-in with hostiles on the road, making certain that no serious injuries were sustained, but the stares lingered longer each time. It was almost as if he had known for a while about the struggles in her head that were battling for what to feel, in that he was daring her to make the first move.

This is so wrong. I can't be giving into urges like this, there's too much at stake.

She didn't allow her composure to waver despite herself. "We should both get some rest until the morning. It's been a long ride since resupplying in Diamond City, and I'm going to work with a few of the townspeople tomorrow morning to improve the utilities of the halfway house."

Rebecca and a handful of the Sanctuary settlers, including Preston Garvey, Jun and Marcy Long had worked to create a three story boarding house for new arrivals to transition through before thinking seriously about making their own permanent home out of the materials from the previous houses set up in the village. It certainly wasn't an easy endeavor. After all, it had taken them almost four and a half months to build the basic infrastructure, not including heating, plumbing, and lighting for any of the floors. It was an extensive job, but they were making excellent progress despite having little to no experience with any other major construction projects.

Hancock grunted in agreement. "If you need any help with setting up any electrical connections, I'm your man. I did manage to improve some of the lighting fixtures around the main streets of Goodneighbor, so I wouldn't say I'm completely useless." He chuckled and smirked. "Heh. Dashingly good looks and a decent shotgun can only take a guy so far in life."

Rebecca's pupils had dilated. You're of greater value than you know.

She smiled brightly. "Don't worry, you'll be the first I call when we get to that point."

"Glad to hear it."

Several weeks had passed since Rebecca and Hancock had arrived in Sanctuary to make improvements on site, and more Wasteland wanderers were slowly trickling into the fold. It was pleasing for Rebecca to see as she had dedicated so much time to making their first housing project appear as welcoming as possible. It didn't hurt that the growing establishment of the Minutemen's presence in town was an unexpected comfort and motivation for farmers, merchants, and families to journey from all across the Commonwealth to see for themselves.

Hancock had assisted the settlers with the construction of three localized generators for the transitional home as well as for front entrance security. Relays and pylons had been built to channel the electrical energy through the numerous light fixtures that had been wired through the metallic walls. They were even fortunate enough to happen by some dyed glass coverings to create make-shift holiday lights on the archways, courtesy of Rebecca's last scavenging project into some office building ruins several days ago.

Christmas was fast-approaching and with all the success and prosperity that the development of Sanctuary was showing, everyone started to become more optimistic. So happily bustling was the community that even perma-fierce Preston Garvey had spared a rare grin when coming to receive updates on the different housing projects. On this particular day, Rebecca was preoccupying herself with gathering and arranging décor around the village and its now glowing homes. She was presently placing some crimson bows made from bits of patchwork that Mama Murphy offered to stitch together around the interior of the halfway home.

A nearby radio on the ground floor was playing a stream of Pre-War holiday tunes and had currently selected Nat King Cole's, 'Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire'. Rebecca had closed her eyes and began to sway to the gentle, hypnotizing melody that whisked her away to a time with little troubles. A time where seasonal love was misting in the air and folks found themselves allured into a sense of generosity, lowered inhibitions, and communal belonging with those around them. She was so entranced in her reverie that the distant footsteps continuing toward her went without recognition.

"Having fun, are we," a voice behind her inquired, their playful undertone evident.

Rebecca's eyes sparkled with tears as she swerved around and beamed. "Hancock..." Her own voice seemed to crack with overwhelming emotion. "It's been so long since I've felt I could relish a moment that wasn't ridden with sadness and guilt."

She extended her hand toward a piece of the revised American flag that was draping loosely on the wall beside her. Rebecca started to stroke her thumb absentmindedly across the smooth fabric. "I think I've often forgotten the reasons for why I'm out here, constantly having to be guarded and combating the lowest dregs of humanity," she said gently, her glassy eyes casually roaming across the material. "If people don't witness the results that we say comes after the fighting is said and done through our efforts to try and be happy with what we've accomplished, how can we expect anyone else to put out the same?" After finishing, she reached out to tuck a loose strand of her silky auburn hair behind her ear.

Hancock took a step closer to her. "Simple: we can't."

His tender black orbs sought her own delicate cerulean irises that shone like two brilliant topazes in the gleaming light. "Remember when I told you that people like you and I are a rarity in places like this?"

Rebecca nodded and he continued. "Well, it still holds that if people like us don't stand up to represent the best of what can come out of such damage and despair, the masses will divide and scatter as they always have.

"The people look to the most charismatic figures for reassurance. But when shit hits the fan and without a leader to guide them, the common folk tend to resort to their primal instincts," he said darkly, studying the flag that hung before him.

Rebecca could have sworn she saw the ceaseless beauty of those ebony eyes she loved so spark aflame from within for the briefest instant, though it could have been a trick of the light.

Hancock's stare flickered back to her as he carefully pondered his next words. "Some real assholes have tried to masquerade as the beacon for which people want to follow. It's our job to step up and make sure that folks don't fall under those kinds of corruptible influences."

What he did next was unprecedented as he reached a calloused hand out to cup her cheek, still as smooth as if she had never departed that parallel world of hers. Rebecca's pulse dramatically quickened with the contact he made to her skin, but his profound speech had resonated inside her and she soon found herself leaning into his touch, welcoming the affectionate gesture. She closed her eyes and sighed, encircling the violently scarred wrist of the hand that was ensnaring her with its warmth in this bitter chill.

As she gazed back toward him, Hancock's onyx hues were penetrating through every part of her being. She felt completely exposed to his scrutiny as he held that look of ferocious determination upon her, the same long-distance, searching stare that he exhibited as they last arrived here. It was as if he believed the answers to all of his doubts and unfulfilled questions lay in those vast, serene oceans that he was incredibly mystified by.

She's so mesmerizing. How could anyone, much less a damn chem-loving Ghoul like me, even hope to be with such a beautiful and sensitive woman like her?

Rebecca's lips unconsciously parted as she started to realize the precarious position they were in. Was this really happening?

"You deserve every bit of happiness you can find in this damnable place. Don't you ever think otherwise, no matter what," Hancock whispered.

He seemed even closer now as he hovered over her slim form, giving her no choice but to peer straight into those swirling ebony pools. She was still grasping his wrist in a firm, but gentle manner.

Hancock swallowed. He couldn't recall the last time he felt so enraptured with someone, if his heart ever fluttered so easily like it did when he was in her presence. In a way, she commanded him with her insatiable glances she snuck when she assumed he wasn't paying attention. This woman embodied all the traits of strength, compassion, and tenacity that he strived to express to his demanding public every day to show that each of their unique voices hadn't been lost on him. She took time as he did to tend to the concerns of the little guys, the underdogs of these wretched badlands that lived by the policy of 'kill or be killed'.

During their wilderness crusades, he would observe how random Wasteland wanderers would fawn over her, even after she had spared all the time and resources she could afford to part with just to make their lives a bit easier. Blockades of Raider scum whose eyes would fill with a lust-crazed carnage at the sight of her trying to reason with any of them before resorting to violence and it boiled his blood to the brim. None of them had any right to lay a fucking hand on her. This sort of attitude would constantly fuel his resolve to mercilessly exterminate any foe that threatened her well-being.

On two separate occasions of the same day, she had sustained some rather severe gunshot wounds. The first was to her lower abdomen, the second at her left shoulder. Hancock had invested several sleepless nights tending to her injuries, and trying to the best of his lackluster medical capabilities to nurse her back to health. All the while, he couldn't prevent himself from staying by her side all those nights that she spent fighting off the infections as she restlessly slept. Hancock felt his chest tighten each time she would moan and cry out in agony from the shooting pains in the early hours of the morning. It shattered him to know he could do no more to ease her suffering apart from waiting for the wounds to close after he had removed the bullet shells. Never again did he allow his guard to waver in the slightest while they were transitioning through untamed territory.

He hadn't known when it began. Whether at the point when she had come back to see him in the Old State House to fess up that she had been in cahoots with Bobbi for a shady odd job until discovering Bobbi's treachery to steal from his secret cache or when he first witnessed her commitment to the Minutemen and how she dedicated so much of herself to making the locals' lives more bearable in spite of the harassment she received for her efforts or just some spontaneous revelation he'd had at some point while they were traveling together.

He was madly in love with the darling woman that stood before him. He desperately wished for Rebecca to take him in as he was now: tender, endearing, loyal, and true to no other except for her. The emotions that he sensed from her were challenging to interpret, but he could feel her trembling slightly beneath his touch. Hancock wished only for her to be happy, and though he couldn't prove it, he could detect that she was also hiding part of herself away from him.

"You look absolutely gorgeous in that new dress," Hancock remarked as his hand returned to its proper place at his side.

Rebecca had this inexplicably hollow feeling after the warmth from his hand had left her cheek. That didn't prevent her face tinging crimson from the compliment, however.

She pursed her lips in embarrassment. "I-uh.. sort of found this lying around by a stray suitcase…" Rebecca paused in thoughtful contemplation. "It's truly a pity that the lady who must have previously owned it didn't get the chance to put it to good use."

Hancock let out a mischievous chuckle. "Those pretty sequins are certainly being put to damn fine use now. Without a doubt."

Rebecca bit her lip, deliberately evading eye contact with him now. She couldn't understand why having a simple conversation with her good friend had become so unnerving. Her hands had begun to palpitate in response to the combination of their realized proximity of mere inches and the immense wave of heat that was suddenly brought upon her. She also couldn't prevent the series of images playing repeatedly in her mind of her springing into Hancock's arms, knocking him off his boots, and passionately kissing him into a senseless bliss. Oh, my… I can't be...

Hancock frowned. Why was she turning away from me? I can't be losing it. I know she saw the connection there, too.

He tilted her chin back toward him. "C'mon, you're not fooling me. What are you afraid is going to happen?"

Rebecca fluttered her eyes shut. Everything and more. That there will be no going back after this.

As she apprehensively opened herself up to him once more, it was understood that the distance keeping them apart was narrowing even further. She could start to feel his warm, ragged breath tickle the front of her chin.

This was it. She was giving in to all of him. There were no more expectations to uphold, no more boundaries dividing what was appropriate and what felt right anymore. Their bonds were broken and for a stolen moment in time, they could let go of all inhibitions that were shackling honest affection and burning desires for flesh and unconditional love from one another.

Rebecca's lips spread, so as to grant him full access to whatever he wished from her. It was now made painstakingly clear by his dauntless question that he wanted her. But by hell, she could no longer deny she wanted him desperately like no other.

Hancock managed to snake his other arm around her waist, pulling her abruptly to him. His hand moved from her chin to cup her delicate face yet again, gnarled fingers gingerly caressing her soft porcelain skin as if to memorize every line and curve. His eyes were closed as he began to lean in, her intoxicating scent of wild berries and the subtle, but powerful hint of rain driving him mad.

They were but a hairsbreadth from each other's lips when a shout nearby interrupted the intimate moment.

"Rebecca! Rebecca, are you in there?!" Someone was calling from just outside the main entrance to the house.

Rebecca bolted from their close embrace and both scrambled to collect themselves before who turned out to be Jun Long burst through the front door without warning. Jun almost immediately spotted the couple off the base of the staircase. He looked rather disheveled and appeared to be quite riled up over something.

Rebecca brushed some stray hairs from her face and turned to address the young man with a small, polite smile. "Hi, Jun. Is there a problem of some sort?"

Hancock was grumbling angrily to himself in response to the intrusion, while Rebecca shot him an irritated glare.

Jun perked up at hearing her offer to help. "Yeah, there is a bit of a-um... a problem. I think Mama Murphy has gone into some sort of withdrawal symptoms from the-uh… chems she was taking. We're having a real hard time calming her down, but she does seem to respond better to you. Do you think you could…?"

Rebecca sighed, but nodded reluctantly. "Yeah... sure. I'll see what I can do, Jun."

"Oh, thank goodness. I was a bit nervous of what might happen if you were in the middle of something." Jun exchanged a glance with Hancock who, presently, did not appear all that pleased with what was going on. He crossed his arms and glared at the boy.

"Well, I guess we should get a move on, then," Jun said meekly. Rebecca followed him out of the house, though not before her eyes flickered back to see the disappointment evident in Hancock's eyes. As soon as she was out of sight and earshot, Hancock turned to the adjacent wall and slammed his fist. "God damn it, Jun! Why did it have to be her?"