Every radiation storm seemed to be following her. It reared its ugly head every time she headed out from any of her established settlements. She was tired of this. The radiation; the death, following her everywhere she went. Leaving Sanctuary was something she was eager to do, but now she had a days walk to home and she would have to eat up all her RadAway just to make it to a bed that didn't reek of hound piss.

She checked her pistol; she was ready to head towards Diamond City, for sleep and work. She needed the extra work these days. She was becoming restless listening to the settlers of Sanctuary complain about their aching backs and feet. Their comments bothered her. She should be the one complaining about her wounds from battles, she made this place safe, they shouldn't complain to her about these mundane pains. She had built them beds, why did they think they could complain about aching feet?

Deep down she knew, it was the past that really haunted her. Following her like a cloud of radiation smoke. Bearing down on her until she couldn't breath. She had taken months of her time collecting various recourses so she could find her son.

…And as soon as she did. She lost him all over again.

Losing Shaun for the second time had really taken a toll on her. She had ignored requests from the institute and placed Dr. Allie Fillmore in charge, Allie had understood. Her loyalty to her son had caused her to betray The Brotherhood, and many people she considered friends. But it was worth it for the short time she had with Shaun. It broke her heart to have felt like she had still given birth to him, and within the same year, have to watch him die of old age. It was unfair to her, and the boy synth that her real Shaun had given her, only made her cringe at the thought of losing him a third time, so she left the Boy Synth in the care of the Institute's Advanced Systems. Forever plagued by the want to bring him a hot plate.

She was happier this way, taking mercenary money, trading bullets for caps. It all helped her forget that she was so unhappy from missing her old life. She forced herself to move on, and for a while now building three new homes full of beds for both Sanctuary and Sunshine Tidings made her content. But she missed that kiss of a bullet, the thrill of the chase.

A few hours brought her to familiar downtown Boston streets. She was doing her best to weave in and out of side streets and alleys to avoid Mutants and Raiders. She just wasn't in the mood to deal with any of them, let alone waste her bullets. The trading up north was shit, and she needed to restock, infact she even wanted to see what work there would be for her in Goodneighbor. She always admired Kleo's arsenal of weapons, clearly she was more enthusiastic than Arturo, and if she sacrificed an extra hour she could find her way to Goodneighbor and settle with a bed at the Hotel Rexford and a couple drinks at the Third Rail. It had been a while since she'd let herself have a drink.

After Shaun… she realized she had thought about a drink often, and just to caution herself, she denied herself the pleasure.

Since it was the past haunting her, she also figured inviting Kent Connolly and reminiscing about the old days wasn't a bad idea either. She began to find the promise of a good night exciting, and wondered why she hadn't thought of it before.

She had to shoot a couple feral dogs on her way past Diamond City. She was tired now, and could definitely feel the rads she had obtained through out the day. "Butcher Pete," played on her PipBoy. The upbeat song giving her a little extra drive to make it the whole way to Goodneighbor, and when she finally made it, she had never seen such a welcoming neon sign. She slipped in the front door, relieved that she could holster her pistol and relax.

She obtained the last room at the Hotel Rexford and changed into a jacket and some jeans she had come across in the Fenz. Surprisingly they were her size, as she had slowly wasted away to bones. Two hundred years ago there was a multitude of food, but now she found herself growing sick of melons and gourds. The occasional can of cram was enough to wash down the rad taste from most of what she ate, but as always the can couldn't hide it's age, and that came out in the flavor. Food either tasted like radiation, or age, neither of them appetizing. At least tonight she could forget the taste with a beer.

When she entered the Memory Den and Dr. Amari looked at her from across the room. Amari shook her head; Amari looked disappointed, obviously upset about the institutes growing presence in the commonwealth could only be because of her. She quickly looked away from Amari's gaze and found Kent, still sitting by his radio, smiling at cardboard cutouts of The Silver Shroud.

"Kent." She said.

"Shroud! It's good to see you!"

"Fancy a few drinks at the Rail?" she asked him.

"I'll always have a drink with the Shroud." Kent said.

"Figured we could talk about the good old days, you know, without throwing your money to the memory den." She said.

"Always good with me," Kent said as grabbed his crumpled fedora and followed her out of the memory den. The Third Rail had plenty of empty seats, and Magnolia graced the usual patrons with her sultry jazz. She realized she wasn't one of the comfortable people here. The things Magnolia sand about where about a life she didn't know. She felt like such a freak to still try and remember Pre-War ways. It was pointless, but like Kent, she found that the better times of her past were long gone. She was left with nothing in this life, no son, no husband, no home, just dystopia.

Whitechapel Charlie got irritated with their purchase of only one beer, but she made him happy when she also purchased a bottle of whiskey.

"Appriciate you takin' care of those rats in the Warehouses. But I'm not too happy with that beer-brewing robot you put up in the Rexford. No one wants the beer I sell because it's not cold." Charlie said.

"Sorry Charlie. I thought the people of Goodneighbor could use the extra libations."

"Everyone seems to like this, Buddy's joking antics. Apparently I'm not 'funny' enough. I could tell jokes. If I wanted." Charlie said.

"I'm sure you could Charlie, but you're much better at bullying people into buying more drinks. The more caps the happier you are." She said.

"That's true. What the hell do I need to tell a joke for?" Charlie said.

Kent and gestured to her to take a seat, one where they could see Magnolia and the rest of the bar. They reminisced about old episodes of the Silver Shroud, recalling plotlines, and what commercials they hated most. Kent hated the commercial for Abraxo Cleaner because it had the worst jingle that would get stuck in your head for hours. Their nostalgia lasted for a while, and she realized the music and the alcohol was bringing her to a place in the present that she enjoyed. This was rare and she chose to revel in it. Her and Kent even danced a Pre-War dance that caught the eye of a few patrons, as it seemed to be something no one remembered.

From across the room the Goodneighbor mayor was watching the girl that Charlie had mentioned took care of his warehouse problem. He had admired her ability to finish a job so quickly, and now he marveled in the way she treated that Ghoul as a friend. John Hancock had spoken to Kent once or twice and found his Pre-War ramblings to be a bit dull; he was the odd charity case around Goodneighbor. And now, here he was, dancing with one of the prettiest girls to ever walk past the Goodneighbor gate.

Fahrenheit reminded him that he had met her once before. Back when the girl had less scars and a more fearful look on her face.

"…You stay cool and you'll be part of the neighborhood."

He remembered now, the day that Finn had been mouthing off and finally started to bother a newcomer giving Hancock the perfect reason to make an example of him right there in the street.

"You know, I don't spose' I ever met the girl." Hancock said.

"Trust me, she's all yours." Fahrenheit said. "Ain't nothing but bones to pick with that one. Plus I like 'em blonde."

"Yer a kidder, F. Finish off those Mentats and I'll see you later." Hancock said, tossing a box into Fahrenheit's lap. He stood up, straightened his authentic red coat and walked over to the bar. Charlie handed him a beer.

"In all my years sir, I've never seen someone dance in your bar like that." Charlie said.

"Seems like a traditional 'gal." Hancock said.

Kent brushed past him and took a seat, looking like he had the spins. Kent didn't get out much. Surely Kent was about to turn in for the night. Hancock turned and found himself locking eyes with the pretty drifter. And figured now was his chance.

"Got a name, dame?" he said offering her the untouched beer in his hands.

"I've got a few names these days," she took the beer and tossed back a swig. "The Brotherhood calls me a traitor, the Railroad calls me scum, the Raiders call me bitch, the gunners call me a fucking whore. Then there is the Minutemen who call me their General and Kent here even calls me the Shroud. So I've got a lot of names, you're welcome to just pick one." She said taking another large swig from the beer bottle.

"I'm all for nicknames," John said. "But how about the name your mother gave ya. How about just the first one, maybe even a middle one if ya got it."

She hesitated at first. It seemed like she hadn't heard her own name in the Commonwealth, since… since…

"The name's Nora." She said.

And a breath of fresh air came over her.

"Nora, pretty name for a pretty gal." said Hancock. "You dance really well, never seen someone with moves like that."

"It's this old television show, it's hard to explain." Nora said. And after another drink, the beer was gone.

"Can I get you another?" he asked. "Or something a little better?"

"Whatcha got?" she asked.

"Mentats, Jet, you name it." Hancock said.

Nora was unaccustomed to chems. She had taken jet once to get out of a tooth and nail firefight. But never to just relax.

"Tell you what, you seem like a Jet girl, you knock this back and let me know when you're having a good time." Hancock said handing her the inhaler.

Nora took it in her hands and didn't think twice. She took the shot and felt like her face had melted under a thousand atom bombs. It was thrilling.

The night became a little different for her then. She found Hancock by her side constantly, calling her things like "dame, beauty, softskin, and Nora." He was calling her Nora. Something she had needed for a long time. Friends were driking and laughing and after the good times had passed at the bar, Hancock had something to ask.

"You got a place to stay Nora?"

"I do." she said. "The hotel."

"You could always stay with me instead, I mean, I am only a few yards away…"

"I'm alright, I think that I can stay on my own tonight." She said teasing him.

"Come on Shroud, I'll take you back." Said Kent.

"Don't worry brother, I got it from here, you head on back to the Den and I'll take her to Rexford."

"If you say so, Mayor." Kent took a few steps away from them and entered the Memory Den while Hancock let Nora's armrest over his shoulder as he took her to the hotel.

"The top floor, third on the right." Nora said, slightly slurred from the Jet.

"You got it girl." Hancock wanted to be with this girl. He needed to be. He was tired of the half-baked girls that wandered around Goodneighbor looking for his attention. They were boring, bad in bed, and certainly not as pretty as Nora.

At her doorway Nora became slightly more sober and placed her arms across the doorway, signaling for Hancock to 'stop.'

"You're not getting in here tonight." Nora said. Slurring again.

"But I find you crazy, in the best way." Hancock said. "…Wild and beautiful. And I think I need to share that room with you tonight."

She shook her head no. Hancock had watched her dance, be best friends with a Ghoul and transfix him with her beauty. He felt like this was his only chance to live, he wanted her, and she was turning him down.

But then she grabbed him, held herself against his chest and swayed to the dull music playing on her Pip-Boy. Hancock responded by holding her and dancing with her in the dark hallway. Slowly feeling what it was like to have this sort of moment with someone. She danced with him the same dance she had done at the bar, only she was holding him considerably more close than she had held her friend, Kent.

Then the song stopped. And Hancock's world stopped. And Nora told him goodnight.