Chapter Text
Kila panted, blood boiling, feeling the beast screaming inside her. She flexed her fingers, phantom claws twitching with want, and turned to face Hancock. He was whistling softly, rifling through the pockets of a dead raider. He got to his feet a moment later and smiled at her.
“What, not interested in looting these guys?” he asked her, nonexistent eyebrow arching questioningly.
“Too worked up,” she snarled. “Not enough fuckin’ raiders to kill, I’m still all hopped up on adrenaline.” And the beast roaring inside her, she didn’t add. Because he still didn’t know, after two months of traveling with her.
She took a deep breath, closing her eyes and centering herself, shoving her impulses deep into her core. Not now. Not now.
Hancock didn’t bother offering her his favored grape mentats; by now he knew she would refuse. Instead, he patted her bracingly on the shoulder and moved off to another cleared room, presumably to search through more pockets and drawers in search of anything useful.
Kila stared at a raider’s severed arm, felt her stomach growl, and decided to wait outside until he was done.
Outside wasn’t great- sky is wrong trees are dead everything smells strange- but there was a cool breeze to blow on her face and sticks to throw for Dogmeat, and the scent of gore and fear was gone, quieting the beast. So it wasn’t too bad, really. Dogmeat happily fetched every stick she threw, barking excitedly as he tracked them. Occasionally he managed to catch one out of the air, and she clapped for him each time. Honestly, God bless Dogmeat. Hancock was great. But Dogmeat had been her constant companion for the last six months, ever since she had happened to wander by Red Rocket Truck Stop, struggling not to give up, lost in the memories of her dead son and husband. She’s pretty sure now that he had played the ‘poor sad lost puppy’ specifically to give her someone to focus on, to give her a purpose, but it was exactly what she needed. And now….now she wasn’t so alone anymore. She had Dogmeat, and Hancock, and she was friendly with many of the residents of Goodneighbor, and she dropped by Nick’s place at least once or twice a month to say hello and shoot the breeze.
And then Hancock himself was stepping out the door, his scent rich with blood, and fear jolted through her like lightning as she remembered. He still didn’t know. He didn’t know, and if she ever slipped up and he found out… she didn’t know what would happen. He could leave. He could leave her, and reject her, and both Kila and the beast within her shuddered, afraid.
“You alright?” he asked her.
“Fine,” she replied, pasting a smile onto her face.
***
Kila shifted restlessly that night, rolling over and over in her sleeping bag. Dogmeat had long ago left her side, shooting her a dirty look as he went to lay down farther away from her.
Eventually, sometime in the hour just before dawn, she got up, trying not to disturb Hancock as he slept several feet away. But she had never been very good at keeping quiet, and one black, bottomless eye cracked open to track her movements before she’d goten more than a few feet.
“Whatcha doin’, sister?” he slurred, voice even lower and rougher than usual.
She hesitated. She wasn’t sure what she was doing, but she felt like she was going to crawl out of her skin if she sat still for another minute.
Hancock noticed her hesitation and sat up, hand moving towards his gun. “Something wrong?”
She knew what he really meant was ‘did you see something?’ or ‘did Dogmeat hear something?’ but her heart jumped in her throat and she flinched away, the beast whining fearfully. Hancock couldn’t, wouldn’t , hurt her, but the fear was still there, regardless.
His dark eyes widened, and he carefully put his shotgun to the side. “What’s wrong, Kila?”
His tone was serious, worried, and suddenly Kila couldn’t take it anymore. This man had risked his life for her, for Dogmeat, had sat with an arm around her when she woke sobbing from nightmares, was always steadfast and funny and unfailingly there, ever since she had stumbled into Goodneighbor and almost robbed him on accident. She didn’t understand why he wanted to be her friend, why he stuck with her, but she and the beast were in utter agreement: Hancock was her friend, and he deserved the truth.
She forced the words out of her mouth. They felt like broken glass. “Hancock. What…..what would you do, if someone had been keeping a secret from you. Because they were afraid of how you would react?”
He looked at her for a long moment.
“If that ‘someone’ is you, sister, I can’t imagine any kind of secret that would make me stop wanting to travel with you. And even though I’m dying to know, you don’t have to tell me. I know you. You’re a good person, and nothin’ is gonna change that”. So saying, he laid back down, rolled over with his back to her. She stood there and listened to his breathing slowly fall back into the patterns of sleep.
She….didn’t have to tell him. Not right now, at least. He had absolved her of the crushing guilt of keeping something from him in a few short sentences, and now she felt as if she was walking on air.
She would tell him. But when she was ready, and not because she felt she owed him the truth.
The crawling feeling had disappeared from her body, and suddenly she was bone-tired. She crawled back into her sleeping bag and fell instantly asleep. This time when Dogmeat cuddled up to her, she slept like a log.