Chapter Text
Quincy, Christmas Day 2055
“Just one more left, Nora.”
The little girl’s eyes lit up as George handed her a small box wrapped in bright red paper.
“What is it?” she asked, auburn pigtails bouncing.
“It’s a surprise, silly,” George replied, tugging one of the pigtails affectionately. “Open it and you’ll find out.”
He sat back in his armchair and watched as Nora tore into the paper, then let out a delighted gasp when she saw what was underneath. It was a silver music box, about the size of a small book, gilded with vines of roses and delicate scrollwork. On the lid, her name was engraved in gentle calligraphy – Honoria Renee.
“Grandpa, it’s so pretty!”
“Open it up, sweet pea.”
She lifted the lid obediently, eyes glittering at the tiny ballerina that popped up and began to spin to Cinderella’s waltz.
“You can put all your special treasures in there,” George said, returning her smile. “There’s a little key on the bottom, so you can keep it secret if you want, too.”
Nora pried the little key from its place and inspected it, still grinning from ear to ear. “Do you have a ribbon?” she asked, “I want to wear it around my neck.”
“Ask your grandma,” George replied, “I’m sure she’s got plenty left over from wrapping presents.”
Nora stood, cradling the box to her chest, and threw her free arm around George. He closed his eyes and hugged her tight, not wanting to let her go. She tolerated his clinging for a long minute and then wiggled away.
“Can we go build a snowman?”
“Maybe in a bit,” George said, “Go get your ribbon and then help your mother set the table for dinner.”
She smiled and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you, Grandpa. I love you.”
“I love you too, Nora. Forever and ever.”
South Boston, January 2074
“I don’t know what to do, Grandpa.”
She could hear him shift and huff a breath on the other end of the line.
“You just got to give him his space, sweet pea,” he said, “Just be there. He’ll come around.”
“He’s…different.”
“I know,” he said, “You should be more worried if he doesn’t seem different after coming back from war.”
Nora leaned against the vanity, fingering the edges of her music box, the phone cradled between her head and shoulder. Nate had been gone for close to six hours, having stormed out of the apartment after yelling at her for accidentally dropping a ceramic plate in the kitchen.
“Someone’s out looking for him, right?”
“Yeah,” Nora replied, shifting to glance out the snowy window. “A friend of mine in the police department.”
“They aren’t going to make a federal case out it, are they?” George asked, his voice dropping in concern. “Because a soldier getting arrested…that’s not going to look good.”
“It’s just one person,” Nora replied, “Nick Valentine. He’s off-duty tonight, but I can trust him to keep everything quiet.”
“Good.”
Nora let out a shaky breath and stared out the window, lifting the lid on her music box. The tinkling sound of the Nutcracker theme filled the room, lulling away some of her anxiety.
“Call me in the morning, alright?” George said, “This old man’s got to get some sleep.”
Nora wasn’t sure how much time passed before Nate walked back in the door, but she had begun to drift off with her music box on the bedside table, head pillowed on her arm. She jumped when she heard the soft click of the door and then he was there, sliding into bed next to her, arms encircling her, pressing kisses to her face and murmuring rushed apologies.
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he whispered against her hair, “I’m so sorry.”
“You scared me, Nate.”
“I know,” he said, “I won’t do it again. I promise.”
Nora let him hold her, feeling tiny against his newly-muscular chest, breathing in the smells of the city on his shirt. His skin was ice cold; she remembered then that he’d left without his coat.
“You’re freezing,” she said, “Get under the covers. Do you want anything?”
“Do we have anymore Gwinnett?”
“No,” Nora lied, fairly certain that alcohol wasn’t a great idea at the moment. She’d have to get up before him and dump the last two bottles shoved into the back of the fridge.
“Just stay here with me.”
Nora nodded and wiggled under the blanket with him, still fully-clothed, her music box continuing to play as they drifted off to sleep together.
Egret Tours Marina, Spring 2288
Nora shook out her sleeping bag, sending bits of dust and dirt flying into the late afternoon air. Her Power Armor was abandoned nearby, the chest plate scratched and the paint peeling along the boots where it had been partially-submerged in a puddle of radioactive goo.
“How’s that scorpion sting?”
Nora shrugged as Hancock came back up the stairs. “Smarts a little still, but it’s not bad.”
“Let me take a look at it.”
“You just want an excuse to see me naked, Mr. Mayor.”
Hancock smiled at her but the concern in his onyx eyes was still obvious. “Unless it also managed to nab you in the ass, all you gotta take off is the shirt, Sunshine.”
“It’s fine,” Nora insisted, looking away as she settled into her sleeping bag. She tried not to flinch but was pretty sure he noticed.
“Let me look, or I’ll ‘waste’ a Stimpak on you once you fall asleep.”
Nora huffed. “Fine. But it’s not really a big deal.”
“We’ll see about that,” Hancock replied, “Here, lie back.”
Nora did as he said, arms above her head and eyes squeezed shut as Hancock examined the wound. The radscorpion had managed to get her right in the side, slipping between her plates of Power Armor and leaving behind a bloody puncture wound as wide around as her thumb. It was situated on her left side, just below her ribcage, the tissue around inflamed and bright red.
“Doesn’t look deep,” Hancock said after a moment, pulling back. “I’ll clean it out and cover the hole for you so it doesn’t get nasty. Want some Med-X?”
“Yeah. There’s some in the front pocket of my bag.”
As he worked, Nora kept her eyes closed tight and tried to think of anything but the way his calloused fingers felt against her skin, how impossibly gentle he was when she knew those same hands had also handled shotguns and combat knives with familiarity and ease. She took a deep breath and hummed to herself. It was getting harder and harder to tell herself she didn’t have anything more than platonic appreciation for those hands.
“What song is that?”
Nora opened her eyes and glanced over at Hancock. “It’s something I used to dance to when I was little,” she said, “Cinderella’s waltz.”
“It’s nice.”
Nora felt her stomach flood with warmth and hoped she wasn’t blushing. “My grandfather gave me this music box when I was about eight,” she said, “When I lifted the lid, it would play the waltz. I kept it so long that the melody is kind of ingrained into me.”
“I still have trouble imagining you as a sweet little girl listening to music boxes.”
“Yeah,” Nora replied softly, sudden sadness blotting away the warmth she’d felt. “Grandpa probably wouldn’t recognize me anymore.”
Red Rocket Minuteman Settlement, Spring 2289
The doors to the old shed popped open with a rusty screech, the cut lock falling into the dust. Danse set the bolt cutters aside and dragged the doors open further, coughing a little as the musty stench of decay hit his nose. A skeleton dressed in dry-rotted rags was propped in the corner, a knife on the ground nearby. Beside it was a metal toolbox and an empty brown bottle.
Danse knelt and opened the toolbox, glancing through the contents for anything useful. A note tucked into the side was addressed to “Jack” and mentioned something about making it to Diamond City with some loot, but the ink was too smudged and faded to make out much. Danse pushed it aside and kept looking. At the bottom of the box, a glint of silver caught his eye.
It was a silver box of some sort, a little scratched and tarnished, decorated with raised flowers. Danse pulled it out and inspected it. It was prewar, obviously, possibly looted from one of the houses in Sanctuary or Concord. He wiped dust off the lid and squinted at the engraving. It was hard to make out, but it looked like a name – Honoria.
He lifted the lid, the broken lock wiggling under his fingers. A tiny ceramic figurine popped up and the box began playing a tinny classical tune. The inside was lined with polished wood and filled with strange odds and ends – two long white ribbons folded together, a dirty copper coin, a gold chain and cross, and other random objects. At the bottom of the box was a small pen, black enamel with a wide nib. It was engraved like the box, with a recognizable name this time – Nora Wilson, Esq.
Hancock watched Nora with growing concern as she sat with Shaun going through the objects in her music box and explaining each item’s significance. The little smile had not dropped from her face, but he’d been with her long enough to see the falseness behind it. She’d been astonished and delighted when Danse offered her the little box and told her how he’d found it stashed in an old shed at the Red Rocket; however, the delight was starting to fade into a kind of wistful sadness he’d not seen her wear since that first day they’d chatted about her missing son in Goodneighbor.
“What are the ribbons from?” Shaun asked, running a finger along one.
“Those are from my first big ballet performance,” she said, “I was en pointe for the first time so I took the ribbons off my shoes and kept them to remember it.”
“And the pen?”
“Your dad gave me that when I graduated law school,” Nora replied, “And this necklace belonged to your grandmother.”
“What about this?”
Shaun rubbed his thumb over the little copper coin, wiping away two hundred years of grime. Nora took it and turned it over in her palm, brow furrowed.
“My dad gave me this when I was really little,” she said, “It was minted the year I was born.”
She dropped the coin back into the box and closed it with a loud snap. Hancock winced.
“Shaun, why don’t you go look for Dogmeat,” he said, “Take your sister, yeah?”
Shaun nodded and picked Anne up from the carpet where she’d been happily chewing on a rubber alien, hoisting the pudgy girl onto his hip and heading out the door with a loud whistle. Nora watched him leave and then looked back at her music box, staring at the engraving on the lid.
“You want to talk about it, Sunshine?”
Nora shrugged. “Not much to talk about.”
“I don’t mind listening, ya’ know.”
She nodded absently, still staring into space. He could see the tense line of her shoulders and he waited, giving her a chance to say something. She’d agreed not to shut down or close him out anymore, but getting the words out of her was still an exercise in patience more often than not.
“Do I have to get you high to talk to me again?” he tried to joke, shooting her his best smile. She looked at him blankly.
“Just wondering what happened to everyone else when the bombs hit,” she said at last, “Nate’s parents, Grandma and Grandpa. Nick, my boss, my neighbors that didn’t go to the Vault.”
Hancock nodded, not sure how to respond. “They’re most likely all dead” would probably have put even more of a damper on the afternoon.
“You remember that kid we found in the fridge once?” Nora asked suddenly, “Billy He’d gone ghoul.”
“Outside Quincy? Yeah.”
“His parents, the Peabodys…they were my grandparents’ neighbors.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah, they moved in next door when I was in college,” she said, “Billy was about Anne’s age. I babysat him a few times.”
“Why didn’t you mention that to them way back when?” Hancock asked, brow furrowed.
“I didn’t think they’d believe I was actually Nora the babysitter from next door, two-hundred-plus years old and leading a militia through the post-nuclear wasteland.”
“Stranger things have happened.”
Nora didn’t respond, just stood up from the couch and took the music box, disappearing down the hallway with it. Hancock heard the squeak of hinges and then she returned a moment later. The sadness was gone – or at least cleverly hidden – and she was scraping her auburn hair back from her face into a long braid.
“I’m going to go work on that malfunctioning turret,” she said, picking up a tool belt near the door. Hancock started to remind her that she’d fixed that turret two days ago but she was gone before he could.