quicksave

by lilacretrograde

Summary:

She wakes to the same cracked pavement, the same rusted skyline, the same infuriating ghoul kicking her awake. No matter what she does, the story refuses to change. She fights, she runs, she falls. The wasteland swallows her whole, spits her back out, and dares her to try again.

But something is different this time. A flicker of memory where there shouldn’t be. A choice that wasn’t there before. And Hancock—watching her just a little too closely, like he’s waiting for her to catch up to something she can’t quite grasp.

If this is a game, then she’s going to break it. One way or another.

Notes:

Chapter 1: reset

Nora didn’t dream. 

She never had, not even before the world had ended. She’d been thankful for that in her previous life, when memories threatened to overwhelm her. Sleep for her had been a welcome respite when the world became too much. Now, in the new world in which she’d awoken, the comfortable silence and peace still soothed her. The days themselves could be overwhelming. In that dreamless sleep, Nora could feel a little more like everything was going to be just fine. She could enjoy the oblivion for a little longer until reality fuzzed back into existence. 

Someone kicked Nora’s feet roughly to wake her and she grumbled as consciousness returned. 

A low and raspy voice rumbled: “C’mon lil vault dweller, let’s get this show on the road.” 

Where once she would have expected to feel the soft give of a mattress, she instead felt a sharp piece of concrete rubble digging into her side. She was brought back to the uncomfortable reality of what was once her beloved home of Boston, crumbled around her in pieces. The bedroll beneath her did little to cushion the discomfort of sleeping on the road. Nora sighed deeply from beneath the thin blanket, always grateful for the rest she could snatch and taking every opportunity for some small respite. The last lingering whisps of sleep tempted her, despite the lackluster location, and it took her a few moments to convince herself to sit up. She took in their surroundings and stretched her hands to the sky in a perfect imitation of a cliche. 

Hancock sat only a few feet away on an overturned bucket, preparing ammunition and packing to get on the road again. It was still new to her to wake up in the wasteland with another person at her side, chatting idly around meager fires and sharing cans of cram on the road. She’d yet to find anything about the ghoul that made him a liability, but that only worried her more– wondering when that shoe would drop. He was the perfect image of relaxation and cockiness most days, but she liked to see how carefully he cared for his beloved shotgun and how he counted his ammunition every morning. He may seem carefree, but he was rarely caught off-guard. 

She’d slept in her vault suit with most of her leather armor still attached. Nora liked to be prepared for anything while out in the wasteland, especially at night, and she couldn’t bring herself to spend all that time unstrapping and unhooking a dozen or so lengths of leather just to sleep. She fell asleep easier when she felt the comforting weight of her 10 mm pistol, its holster still strapped on her hip. She sighed, stood, and started to pack away her bedroll. 

“Sorry f’er interrupting your beauty sleep, but you don’t really need it, beautiful,” Hancock said later, with a sideways grin as they walked along the destroyed road. 

“Hold that tongue or you’ll be the one sleeping, soon,” she retorted, a surge of irritation rising within her at the flippant way flirtatious words flowed from his lips.  

“I can think of better things to do with my tongue–” 

Nora hit him on the shoulder before he finished the sentence. 

They’d only known each other for the better part of a fortnight at this point. Nora had blown into Goodneighbor and the charismatic Mayor was the second person she’d met. The first ended up dead on the broken cobblestones within minutes of her arrival. Come to think of it, bodies seemed to follow the ghoul whenever Nora had interacted with him. First Finn, then Bobbi, then Sinjin. He’d said he wanted to come with her to sharpen the old “killer instincts,” but from where she stood he didn’t seem to need her help. 

Nora had offered to let him come travel with her, but they were still figuring each other out. She hadn’t had a traveling companion since waking in the vault, unless you counted Dogmeat. It was still foreign to her to have someone following along on every step of her wasteland excursions, and she found herself watching him frequently, keeping vigilant for any potential hint of betrayal. She’d learned to be suspicious of nearly everyone in this new world, but if she were honest, the kill-or-be-killed manta of the post-apocalypse had really only confirmed her opinions of people from before the bombs had dropped. 

They both stopped suddenly when the sound of voices overlapping came from just ahead, to the right. Neither of them had been paying as much attention to their surroundings as they should have. Up ahead, the tell-tale signs of a raider camp were obvious once you knew what to look for. Scavenged corrugated metal and boards were slapped together to make a wall across the street with guards stationed at the top. Below the guards, scaffolding and stairs worked their way to the asphalt and blurred figures in the distance could be seen walking across catwalks and down ramps holding pipe pistols and rifles. Nora pulled her own sniper rifle from the holster on her back and Hancock cocked his shotgun. 

“Did you hear that?” One of the voices said. 

“You’re just hearing things,” said another, clearly annoyed. 

Nora got onto one knee and sighted through her scope, indicating with one hand for Hancock to stay put. Two raiders stood guard on top of the shoddily-constructed wall at the end of the block. It was hard to get an exact count of the full camp, but for now she only needed to focus on the two who had nearly spotted them. She took a deep breath, held it, and slowly pulled the trigger. The raider’s head snapped back and he tumbled forwards off the wooden scaffolding. His companion immediately began looking for them, and she held her breath, making herself as small as possible behind the cover of an old Corvega. She quietly exhaled, set up her shot again with the barrel resting on one of the rusted windows, and prepared to pull the trigger— when Hancock popped out from behind the car and immediately began running toward the firefight. 

“Fuck,” she hissed, glaring at his rapidly retreating form.

She’d been hoping to stay as hidden as possible and take out each of the raiders stealthily, but that plan was out the window, now. Part of her was vindicated, having assumed it was only a matter of time before having a traveling companion came back to bite her in the ass. 

She dipped back to the scope and tried to line up her shot, but the raiders knew where they were now and were steadily streaming down the wooden ramps from the scaffolding to the street. She cursed and holstered the rifle, immediately grabbing the 10 mm and checking the ammo. 

Though she was just a minute behind the ghoul, downed bodies littered the destroyed street and she had to leap over them to run toward the center of the fray. A machine-gun turret perched on a high wooden parapet made a whirring sound and she immediately aimed toward the glint of metal before it could unload its volley. Three shots in quick succession and the machine exploded, littering burning pieces of circuitry onto the ground like shimmering fireworks. 

She followed in his path of chaotic destruction, picking off half-dead raiders that lay with shotgun blasts to the chest that hadn’t quite killed them. The last ones remaining unharmed were weak, hiding and running from the onslaught. She didn’t blame them, but that’s where her empathy for the raiders ended. She saved a good deal of ammunition with several easy headshots before she heard the sound of one more loud shotgun blast echo off the tall buildings and a whoop of excitement followed after. 

Hancock turned to see her there, a wide smile on his torn lips. He rested his shotgun on his shoulder and the swagger of confidence returned to his stance. She stared at him, completely unamused. 

“Don’t do that again,” she said, voice authoritative and clearly annoyed, rounding on him the moment she got the chance; his confident strut doing nothing but adding to her rage. “You completely ruined the plan.” 

“What plan?” He spat, grin melting off his face and returning her vitriol. “Maybe y’ should clue me in on yer plans in the future. I ain't’ a mind reader, sister.”

She glared at him. He had a point, but she wasn’t about to admit it. An arrogant part of her said that he should have just known she was in charge during armed exchanges. She knew it was irrational, but she couldn’t help it. She turned her eyes back to holstering her 10 mm, and motioned for them to continue down the road. Their target was still several miles away, a fishpacking plant on the other side of the bay, and they would have to navigate a pre-war overpass to get to it. She hated being on those deathtraps. They looked like they could fall at any minute, and there were no alternate escape routes in case of an ambush. 

The two of them walked in a tense silence for a long while, Nora holding her hand near her hip, ready to draw her gun if needed. She was on edge, much more so than she usually was on the road and couldn’t help but wonder if it had something to do with the ghoul who walked at her side, shotgun resting leisurely on his right shoulder. He couldn’t look more carefree if he were whistling. 

“You need t’ relax,” he said, as if he noticed her critiques. He was more observant than others gave him credit for. 

“No, I do not,” she said firmly. “We’re exposed out here.” 

Hancock tossed her something. She fumbled with it as the bottle hit her chest and caught it without much grace. 

“Daytripper?” She asked, reading the faded label.

“It’ll help get that stick outta your ass, sweetheart,” he gave her a wide smile. She glowered. He continued walking. 

Hancock strode into the plaza ahead of them without caution, still talking about some bar fight in the Third Rail as she half-listened. She wasn’t paying particular attention beyond occasional grunts and nods, but she noticed when he suddenly stopped ahead of her. His hand flew back to indicate that she should stop as well. She looked in each direction before entering the plaza behind him, completely disregarding his attempt to command her to stay put. She wanted to know for herself what kind of a threat he’d seen. Her breath caught in her throat as she saw about a dozen feral ghouls standing placidly in the shadows of the nearby buildings. 

She carefully started to walk backwards out of the plaza, relieved as Hancock followed her lead. If they hadn’t seen Nora, there was a chance they’d be able to get out of there without a fight. Her footfalls came down slowly and quietly, until her boot found an old aluminum can and she heard the loud crunch echo in the plaza. Immediately, heads shot up to her location near the alley and she felt a sharp stab of panic. 

Nora knew she was the one in the most danger here, that most ferals ignored ghouls except under specific circumstances. But here she was, a non-irradiated smooth skin with 13 sets of black eyes on her. Hancock diverted his gaze and, this time, his penchant for running into battle was an advantage, as he’d taken two of the heads of the ghouls with point blank shotgun shots within seconds. She took a deep, steadying breath, then followed him into the fray. 

She’d successfully killed a few with well-aimed shots, always stopping to line them up before. Hancock wildly shot whenever he had a clear line of sight, aiming be damned. The chaos continued in the street, and Nora found herself backing up rapidly with a feral running directly at her. She tried to line up a shot with her rifle, but it was too close for her scope to be any help. Her heel smacked a piece of broken concrete behind her and she tripped. Nora fell backward with the ghoul following to land directly on top of her. She let out a shriek of terror and held it away from her with her rifle in two hands, turning her head to keep the grasping claws from gouging her skin. She could smell the metallic radiation, the rotting sulfur scent of decay, the mildew of the meager clothes the thing still wore. 

The feral ghoul was roughly pulled off of her and tossed a few meters further into the plaza, then a shotgun blast ended its protests. She saw Hancock standing over it, a snarl across his irradiated features in a brief glimpse into something more than just confident bravado. Nora sat up, breathing heavily and looking around frantically to see that it had been the final of the ferals to be put down. She put a hand on her chest, feeling her frantic heartbeat under the blue vault suit’s thick fabric. 

“Th- Thank you,” she finally managed to say, swallowing her anger. Her frustration at having needed rescuing. Hancock’s expression was one of concern when he put a hand out to lift her up out of the rubble. She took it, too tired to fight his offer of help. When she was upright, she noticed just how close they were– just inches away. She could almost feel his heavy breaths as they both recovered from the strain of the battle. 

“We’ll think of a way you can thank me later,” he said, then winked at her and turned to continue on their way. He actually winked at her, for God’s sake. She’d noticed that about Hancock right away. He flirted like it was his first language, but she couldn’t help but see every suggestive word as hollow. Nora had always felt that way about idle flirting, even before the war. She sighed, picked up her rifle, and followed the retreating form of that ridiculous coat toward the imposing overpass up ahead.

Their target was just on the other side of that overpass, but it was still a long walk away. She holstered the rifle that had prevented her from being a snack for a feral, then checked the coordinates on her pipboy. Hancock fell into step with her, and as she glanced across, Nora considered the nagging frustration she had begun to develop in regards to the ghoul.  He ran into battle with reckless abandon, a clear contrast to her preference for careful and calculated approaches. But he’d still saved her when the situation had gotten out of her hands. Even if it tasted like soil in her mouth to admit she’d needed him. 

“Most people who run with me don’t last out the day. I’m impressed.” 

“I can take care of myself,” Nora responded. Hancock gave a half-scoff. 

“Y’sure can, sister.” She avoided his gaze, while he continued. “Ya know, you ain’t gotta be such a lone wolf all the damn time.” 

“You think you know me?” She snapped, embracing the venom in her tone. “You don’t know a damn thing. Just stay out of it.” 

He raised his hands in front of him in an instant, surrendering to her vitriol. “Hey, now, I’m not tryin’ to pry, just noticed you don’t seem to like my help.” 

“Yes, Hancock, you’re very observant.” 

If her tone annoyed him, he didn’t show it. “Just try t’ remember, not everyone’s out to burn you. Hell, I’m still standin’ here, ain’t I?”

Nora gave him a measured look, trying to consider his words. The walls she’d built inside of herself strained and creaked, but stayed strong. She shook her head. She knew he’d leave eventually. They always did. A flash of memories of her mother and father passed before her eyes. Memories of shouting matches with Nate. All the people who had left her. Hancock wouldn’t be any different, even if he professed the opposite. They all promised that, at first, after all.

It was just a matter of time. And time kept marching on. No one could stop it or what it brought with it. 

The two of them made it to the imposing structure between them and their destination and Nora’s anxiety only grew. She knew that crossing it would be the hardest part of the journey, especially if any raiders had made their home there. She steeled herself and looked at Hancock. 

“Please, this time, follow my lead. If we run into trouble, I don’t need a wild card, I need a partner.” 

“You got it, sunshine,” he said in that relaxed way of his, and she found herself doubting him, again. 

Nora took that first step onto the asphalt with Hancock behind her, and that was when they heard it. 

A roar. 

She closed her eyes in frustration. Of course, they’d faced two groups of enemies already today. Why wouldn’t the universe decide to go for the hat trick? 

She’d taken on deathclaws before, but they needed better cover than the exposed position they were in. Being on the structure was out of the question, with the lack of viable escape routes that weren’t certain death. She motioned to Hancock to duck with her under the pass, where the soil and rubble had been crushed and piled around the pillars. Still not perfect, but between being trapped at ground level and having to jump from a great height? The beast roared again, closer this time. 

The deathclaw came around the corner of a shack in the distance and Nora felt her stomach jump into her throat in a sudden, cold panic. This was no ordinary beast. She saw the extra horns jutting from its back, the blinding white skin reflecting the sun, bright red eyes staring them down. It was at least twice as large as any deathclaw she’d faced in the Commonwealth. She was terrified every day out in the irradiated landscape, going up against the creatures created as consequences of nuclear annihilation, but she’d never been this horrified. 

She shook the fear away and quickly got out her scoped sniper rifle. If she could shoot the monster in the exact right place before it got to them, maybe, just maybe , they’d have a fighting chance with closer range weapons. Nora aimed carefully, the gait at which the deathclaw ran certainly making it difficult, then took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. She squeezed the trigger. 

Nothing happened. 

She was out of ammo. 

The deathclaw gained on them before she could rummage in her pack for more .38 shells; and panicking, she had to turn and run. Hancock followed, turning to shoot wildly behind him with his shotgun, the only one of them with a loaded weapon. Some of the shots even hit true. Their only impact, however, seemed to be enraging the animal as it began to sprint toward them. 

Nora jumped onto an overturned car and tried to reach one of the supports of the overpass to get high enough that the deathclaw wouldn’t be able to reach her. Hancock went the other way and she heard him let out a string of curses a moment later. She turned at the sound, losing speed and her breath at the sight. He had tripped and fallen, and the monster was quickly closing the distance, gunning straight for him. Nora frantically looked for ammunition in her pack, coming up empty, and her eyes flicked up to where she heard a rasping shout in the echoing confines under the concrete and asphalt. 

She watched with horror as the beast brought down its extended claws directly where Hancock lay on the hard-packed ground. She heard a loud grunt, a gurgling sound, and then nothing at all. She blinked away the involuntary tears that threatened at the edges of her eyes and heard the beast’s feet on the ground picking up speed. Nora jumped off the car, turned, and began to run in the opposite direction, but she was so shaken from having seen Hancock killed in front of her, the deathclaw had no problem catching up to her. 

The large claws which gave the creature its name closed around her waist and lifted her into the air. Its hot breath stunk of carrion as it roared in her face, holding her in front of it like a plaything it had gotten frustrated with. She scrunched her eyes closed, filled with terror and panic. She wasn’t going to make it out of this one. After everything she’d done, all of the times she came out on top, this time she wasn’t going to be so lucky. 

She heard her flesh ripping before she felt it. She screamed, though no one was around to hear it, and it was cut off by the taste of metallic blood in her throat. Her vision fuzzed and the monster threw her hard against the ground. It should have hurt more than it did. Shock set in so quickly that the sensation of pain melted from her, as the cracking and shattering of bones reverberated through her body. The blooming, bright red puddle encircling her grew and the awareness of that forced an involuntary scream to try to rip from lungs filled more with blood than oxygen. It came out as a whimper. She weakly tried to reach her pistol, but her hands were no longer capable of closing on their own. 

A moment later she began to see the black shadow on the edges of her vision closing in. She fought it. With everything she had, she fought succumbing to that comfortable, painless darkness. She gasped for air, realizing her lungs were filled with more blood than oxygen. 

She drifted off, as if going to sleep. Her dreamless, soothing sleep. 

There was blissful silence and her awareness fell away until she was no more. 

♼

Nora awoke to someone roughly kicking her feet to wake her up. She felt a jagged piece of concrete rubble digging into her side as she sat up slowly. She was on her bedroll. They were camping on the road. 

“C’mon lil vault dweller, let’s get this show on the road.” 

Her eyes snapped up, seeing Hancock pulling a rusted bucket from a pile and turning it over to serve as a makeshift seat. 

He was alive . 

Nora rubbed her temples and felt a headache beginning to form. She didn’t usually dream, but… maybe today was the exception. Maybe the stress, the fighting and strangeness of this world had activated some part of her brain that always lay dormant, before. She’d had an extremely vivid dream and now she was awake, the details too sharp to be a figment of her imagination. She still felt echoes of the terror, the panic, the realization she’d gotten someone killed— the vehement denial that she was about to die, too. She shook her head to rid herself of the aftershocks and began to pack away her bedroll. 

On the road again, Nora nervously held her hand on the 10 mm pistol secured to her hip and surveyed the land more critically than she had in her dream. Hancock walked beside her, relaxed and jovial. 

“Sorry f’er interrupting your beauty sleep, but you don’t really need it, beautiful,” he crooned, and Nora gave him a blank stare. Had she… predicted he would say that? 

Slowly and without much of a bite, she said her line. 

“Hold that tongue or you’ll be the one sleeping, soon.”   

“I can think of better things to do-–”

“No, stop.” 

He cut off and gave her a confused look. “Not in the mood, eh, sister?” 

“Haven’t we had this conversation before?” 

Hancock looked her up and down and met her eyes. Where there was once confusion, now she saw a hint of concern in his expression.   

“Sunshine, I think I’d remember that.”  

She shook her head, deciding it must have been a dream. 

“Nevermind, I don’t know what I’m saying.” 

They walked in silence for a while longer, Nora’s unease getting worse with every step as her mind ran through the events she remembered, but that clearly couldn’t have happened. They came upon a rusted Corvega in the middle of the destroyed street and her gaze lingered on the vehicle. 

Overlapping voices began to sound in the echoing between the tall buildings. 

“Did you hear that?”

“You’re just hearing things.” 

Her heart hammered in her ears and she pulled Hancock with her behind the cover of the car. She pulled her sniper rifle out and lined up her shot, then looked up from the scope. 

“Don’t go running into battle this time, idiot.” 

“This time?” 

Nora breathed out and pulled the trigger. The raider’s head rocked back and he fell from the scaffolding. 

Deja vu. 

Nora pulled away from the scope and gave Hancock a sideways glance. One beat. Then two. On the third, he jumped up with his shotgun and began running toward the fight. She sighed and rolled her eyes, but decided to follow him. The second she was away from the cover of the Corvega, however, she felt a sharp pain in her shoulder. She looked at it quizzically. 

She’d been shot? This didn’t happen in her dream. It must have just been a dream, then. Just coincidence. Because this pain? She’d remember this pain.

Another shot rang out and this one hit her in the stomach. 

Pain. She felt that painful and draining feeling as her vision fuzzed. She fumbled in the pack on her thigh for a stimpak and jabbed it into herself, but before she could push down the plunger, another shot took her in the collarbone. Her vision fuzzed further, then began to vignette, then went completely black as she fell to the asphalt. 

She awoke a moment later to her feet being kicked roughly. The only pain she felt was a jagged piece of rubble digging into her side. 

“C’mon, lil vault dweller, let’s get this show on the road,” a raspy voice said in the early morning air. 

Nora began to breathe heavily, sitting up immediately and looking around at their surroundings. It was the same place. The same rubble. Hancock grabbed the same rusted bucket and sat upon it. Nora scrambled to her feet. 

She’d already lived this day. Twice. 

It had to be a dream. She must still be asleep. 

Nora grabbed her packs and armor and quickly strapped them on. She left her bedroll and immediately ran out of the camp. She heard curses and shouts of protest from behind her as Hancock tried to stuff the rest of his ammo hastily into his pack and run after her. She didn’t stop. 

When she saw the scaffolding ahead, and the same rusted Corvega, her heart began to beat faster. She crouched behind it and pulled out her rifle. Would she hear the raiders talking on the raised wall? 

“Did you hear that?” 

She didn’t wait for the other to respond before pulling the trigger. Hancock made it to the vehicle just as the shooting began, and the look he gave her could have killed as soundly as any of the pipe pistols. She returned fire, feeling like she was fighting for more than just her life at this point. She might very well be fighting for her very sanity. 

A small metallic clink sound was audible in the lull between volleys of gunfire, and Nora watched as a small object was tossed behind the Corvega. She didn’t have time to respond before the frag grenade exploded right next to them. 

And suddenly, she was on her bedroll again, Hancock kicking her feet roughly to wake her up. 

“C’mon, lil vault dweller, let’s get this show on the road.”

Notes:

For the full experience, here is a mood board for this fic.

Special thank you to Oraeliaa for her invaluable and exceptional work as a beta. <3

Chapter 2: replay

After hundreds and hundreds of loops of the same day, dying became boring. 

She was kicked awake again and sat up immediately, missing sleep. Whatever she woke up from, it wasn’t sleep. There was no rest, not for the wicked and not for her. She longed for the dreamless, comfortable, abyss of unconsciousness. In this endless loop, one second she would be drifting away into the ether of death, and an instant later, Hancock’s boot forced her into instantaneous consciousness. Like blinking, more than resting. 

“C’mon, lil Vault-” 

“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, rubbing a calloused hand down her face as fatigue settled in, again. “Let's get on the road.” 

Hancock gave her a quizzical look, shook his head, and began packing up his ammo, sitting on an overturned rusted bucket. Nora strapped on the rest of her leather armor, pulled her hair back, and stood, practically tapping her foot as she waited on the ghoul. Her most recent death had, mercifully, been a quick one, but still she rubbed her temple, imagining echoes of the pain she’d felt. They’d almost made it to the plaza when one of the raiders they’d missed behind them took her out with a headshot. She’d counted incorrectly. Sloppy mistake. At least it wasn’t the deathclaw. 

At this point, she was pretty sure she’d died in nearly every way possible. The beheading a few cycles back had been a particularly interesting one, but she thought it best not to dwell on it. Mostly, she was angry that she’d let someone with a machete get that close to her. 

When Hancock finally finished putting together his supplies, Nora set off in the direction of the raiders. It was the first annoyance to get out of the way. Nearly everything in the loop had begun to annoy her. Kill the raiders, kill the ghouls, face off against the deathclaw… well, that last one was only annoying in the fact that she still hadn’t figured out how to defeat it after literal years of practice. 

“Sorry f’er interrupting your beauty sleep, but you don’t really need it, beautiful,” the line from Hancock pulled Nora out of her silent contemplation. She’d been so exasperated with him at the beginning of all this, so sure she was right about him being a liability. He was, without a doubt, a liability. But he had certainly not bored her. 

“I think you need more beauty sleep than I do,” she replied with a sly grin and he laughed raucously. The sound bolstered her, reminding her that the loop in which she was trapped wasn’t just death and destruction. It could have laughter, playful banter, and so much more. She clung to that on the hardest of days. 

"Maybe,” he said as they continued walking on the destroyed street, lowering his voice and all but crooning at her. “But I’d much rather lose sleep imaginin’ all the things we could do together."

Nora grinned with a knowing look, but didn’t respond. No matter what line she threw back at him, he always had a quick witted retort. She’d started mentally collecting her favorites, like a Hancock crib sheet.

Situated just ahead of a dumpster, there sat the ever-present car that had become just another feature on the tour she’d memorized.  She’d become so familiar with it she could recite the VIN number, etched into its exposed, rusting surface. Once or twice, she’d wondered about the car’s previous owners. Had she ever passed them on the interstate, or been stuck in bumper-to-bumper traffic just yards away? They couldn’t have ever known that one day, 270 years in the future, it would serve as cover during a firefight. Thousands of firefights, if you counted each day she’d lived.  Knowing what was coming next, she sighed deeply, unholstered her sniper rifle, and fell into the role she’d played many times before. She ducked down behind the Corvega as Hancock followed her, back against the rusted body while he loaded his shotgun with a click. She gave him a serious look. 

“Listen, I need you to stay here and don’t move.” 

“Like hell I will,” he exclaimed. Like he always said, the same fire, the same familiar protectiveness in his tone. A protectiveness she didn’t understand, given the short frame of time in which he’d known her . 

“You always go running into battle and draw fire, just let me take care of this.” 

He looked at her like she was mad, though perhaps she was. “What do you mean, always ?” 

Nora didn’t respond, instead setting up her shot. It surprised her that the barrel of her rifle hadn’t eroded away the steel of the window into a perfect crescent, with how many times she had made this exact shot. The exact angle, the exact position of the raider’s body. She exhaled the same way she always did, pulled the trigger at the same moment and watched the raider’s head rock back; the force sending his body plummeting to the broken road below. He always landed with the same sickening crunch. She looked at Hancock out of the corner of her eye and after three beats, she grabbed the lapel of his revolutionary jacket and shoved him back against the body of the car. He’d been about to get up and run into the fight. She didn’t let him. 

“I said stay put .” 

She didn’t need to look at him to catch the scowl on his face as he begrudgingly sat back against the body of the Corvega. He probably chalked it up to the fact that they hadn’t gotten used to one another in a fight, yet. For him, they’d only been in three or four scraps along the road. Naturally, Nora had a little more experience. 

Nora lined up the next shot and took out the second raider without alerting any others. She continued her stealthy assault from behind the car, counting raiders as they fell to well-placed headshots she’d perfected as the scene played over and over and over. When she reached 11, she knew that every raider in their camp had been put down. And not a single shout of alarm was heard. 

She’d tried this fight in a hundred different ways. Once, she even tried making it a fist-fight by sneaking up the scaffolding, but a switchblade on one of the raiders sent her right back to her bedroll. The biggest wild card in all of the fights was Hancock, who was standing up from their cover and giving her a look that was equal parts confused and furious. He dusted off his jacket with a smack and turned to grab his discarded shotgun. She knew that Hancock could fight, but in her varied and tested experience, something always went wrong when she lost control of the situation. But this time, they’d made it through safe.

Nora continued ahead to the raider camp and began looting their ammunition boxes. She had been diligent about keeping track of her ammo since her disastrous first few loops when she’d been dry upon facing the deathclaw. Luckily, the raiders had a few grenades hidden as well, and by now she knew exactly where to find them. She wished they’d had more firepower; what she wouldn’t give for a fatman and some mini-nukes. 

She tossed a box of shotgun shells to Hancock and he caught it easily with a nod. She knew he had exactly 36 shells in his pack, but this addition of another 12 would help in their ill-fated final battle. Even after thousands of attempts, there was no escape from the deathclaw. So far they were set up as well as they could be. Nora had spent the least amount of ammo, picked up some more, and they were on their way to the next annoyance to get through, again. 

Hancock was silent for a long while as they stepped around rubble, leaving the camp and following the path she could walk in her sleep. If she slept. She wasn’t sure anything about this day could surprise her anymore, but she sure as hell wasn’t stupid enough to underestimate where they were - and kept herself alert. Safer to always remain on edge, walking through the Commonwealth. She was aware of other dangers only blocks from where they walked, and on occasion they accidentally alerted them to their presence. She didn’t have the patience today to deal with supermutants. 

Hancock finally broke the silence, but just like every other loop, Nora knew exactly what to expect. A curse more than a blessing.  

“You need t’ relax,” he said, just like he always did, though the tone of his voice was certainly less laid-back than usual. 

“Nope. Relaxing gets you killed. Trust me.” 

He rummaged in his pockets, but Nora held up a hand. 

“Daytripper doesn’t help,” –in fact, the many times she’d tried taking his advice and using the chem, she ended up dead pretty quickly after it kicked in. 

“It’ll help get that stick—” 

“Outta my ass, I know. Unfortunately, it’s pretty far up there.” Nora grinned and continued on the path toward the plaza. 

It would make more sense, she knew, to avoid the plaza filled with feral ghouls entirely, and sometimes that worked. Sometimes they got away entirely and sometimes they alerted and angered that super mutant camp just to the south. Other times, the ghouls heard commotion and came running anyway. Sneaking away didn’t always avoid the fight, either. On a few occasions, the roar of the deathclaw drew them in and then they had to deal with the monstrous beast and the vicious ferals at the same time. No, through a lot of trial and error, Nora had, instead, resolved to perfect getting through the ghouls, and she had it down to a science. 

She held a finger to her lips and dropped to a crouch just before the alleyway opened up into the plaza. 

“Stay behind me,” she whispered, and Hancock gave her an utterly exasperated look. 

“At least I’ll enjoy the view,” he said after a moment, with a half-shrug and a smile that said he liked pushing her buttons. He did, she knew by now. Thousands of loops of the same day, and that constant had never changed. She’d come to rely on it, in a way. Like a way to tell which way is up when you’re deep under water, he’d become a touchstone for her. As long as that sense of humor stayed intact, she could make it to the next loop. She barely felt human anymore, but the ghoul kept her grounded. She couldn’t even thank him for it; he wouldn’t understand. 

After a brief moment while Nora counted beats in her head, she reached behind her and grabbed Hancock’s hand. It always surprised him when she did that. She gave him a reassuring smile, but when she turned her head back to the plaza, it melted off her face. When she reached the count of 14, she jumped into action and stepped into the plaza, pulling Hancock behind her. Each of her footfalls landed in the exact places she meant them to, and she unholstered her 10 mm. 

One shot 30 degrees to the south took out the first feral before he even noticed them. The second shot angered another and Hancock reached for his shotgun. Nora looked at him and shook her head, lifting her gun even as she made eye contact with him and shot a ghoul running toward them without a glance. Nora carefully stepped over an aluminum can on the ground. She grasped Hancock’s shoulders and pushed him to the right, narrowly missing one of the ghouls sprinting toward them. She shot it in the back of the head once it was clear. 

A dozen ghouls. 15 shots. She had timed it once and it only took 2 minutes and 29 seconds to clear the plaza. 

By now she’d lived out this day 1,273 times. She’d died as many times trying to escape the constant loop within which she was stuck. Maybe lucky number 1,274 would be the charm?

One thing Nora had decided over the years spent in the loop was that the most likely way to break it was to make it to their destination. The fishpacking plant on the other side of the bay, only accessible by the overpass they had to cross. She’d tried every other possible route. The few times she’d tried swimming across the bay had been particularly fruitless. Radiation death was very painful. Drowning was almost worse. 

They left the plaza littered with withered bodies. Hancock looked around, seemingly stunned, and she walked ahead toward the next block. After a moment or two, he hurried to catch up with her. 

“You and I need to have words, sister,” his voice was low and serious, without the laissez faire tone he usually carried. 

Many things in the loop stayed the same. The raiders were always on the scaffolding. The feral ghouls were always in the plaza. But this one conversation seemed to be a constant in the fact that it was never the same. Not exactly. She turned around to face him and gestured for him to continue. 

“Look, I knew y’ could handle yourself, but— well, what the fuck was that back there?” 

“I killed the ferals,” she said simply. 

“No, you surgically annihilated them. Single-handedly. I felt like a fuckin’ child, you draggin’ me around. I didn’t fire a single shot.” 

“Don’t take it personally, I’ve just found it’s easier for me to do all of it.” 

“You ain’t gotta be such a lone wolf all the time… even if you’re freakishly good at it.” He added the last part begrudgingly. 

She gave a half-grin. 

“I ain’t taking up with you out here just to be sidelined, sugar. You feel me?” 

Nora had heard a similar lecture hundreds of times. She needed to trust him, let him in, let him help, etc, etc. One particularly difficult loop, when she’d been on the edge of madness, she had unloaded on Hancock completely. She’d told him every shitty thing in her childhood that built those walls inside of her, brick by brick. The screaming, the broken promises, the loss. She yelled at him about how, even in the wasteland, at least he’d grown up in a home with loving parents on the seaside with food in his belly every night. He’d known trustworthy people to rely on. 

She’d exploded about parents in and out of jail and aging out of the foster care system. She’d fought for everything she had before the war, living in her car while attending University and attending law school on scholarship. Then, in an instant, everything she’d worked for was gone with the flash of a bomb on the horizon. 

Nora had learned early on in life that even those closest to you couldn’t be relied on. Couldn’t be trusted. The only one she could really count on was herself. 

The next loop, he didn’t remember anything and she couldn’t bring herself to explain it all again. Instead, she brushed him off every time. She had grown to rely on his presence, in a way, and she hated the loops where he died before she did. It wrenched at something deep within her. At least when she kept him out of the fight, he lived a little longer. 

And she knew what was coming up ahead. She couldn’t afford to dwell on her own unsavory hand in life. In over 1000 days of this, they’d never escaped the deathclaw and she needed to think of a way to even the odds. 

One attempt saw her take Hancock home to Goodneighbor, with a significant amount of protesting, to try to see if she could at least get him out of the loop, somehow. But that night when the deathclaw won, she still woke up to his boot kicking her awake. She’d tried leading them in different directions, where more dangers of the Commonwealth lurked. Either the deathclaw would find them, or they’d meet their fate at the hands of something worse. They never made it past midnight. 

Nora sighed and idly rubbed her temple. She wasn’t sure if she was feeling an oncoming headache or a psychosomatic ache from the last loop when she’d taken a headshot. Either way, she decided she’d rather have Hancock on her side than be confused on the sidelines of this loop. So, even though he might not believe her, she gave him what he said he wanted. 

“Listen, Hancock, I know this is gonna be hard to believe, but I’m stuck in this day and I’ve fought those ghouls over and over again.” 

“I know every day can feel a little repetitive…” 

“No, literally. The exact same ghouls. I wake up every morning in the same place. I die every afternoon.” 

He was silent. He’d heard this before, plenty of times. He never remembered it later, but for a brief moment it was nice to share the burden with someone else. Nora already felt a little lighter just from saying it out loud. 

“We’re probably stuck in this day until the inevitable heat death of the universe,” she said with a shrug. 

“Y’know, I’ve heard crazier things. Especially with chems involved.” 

She smirked and gave him a light punch on the shoulder. 

“No chems here.” 

“How do you get out of it?” It seemed the ghoul had decided to humor her on this loop. It was much better than the ones when he didn’t believe her at all. Those ones usually ended with him yelling at her and leaving. She disliked those ones the most. Hated how alone she felt, how the sight of his retreating frock coat proved her right in all the worst ways.

“If I knew that,” she sighed, “don’t you think I would have done it?” 

He chuckled, low and raspy, and she couldn’t help but smile back. It was contagious, his mirth.

“I think, maybe, if we make it to the fishpacking plant, maybe it would reset something?” 

He nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, alright, well let’s get going, then.” 

“There’s just one problem…” she said. 

Nora broke through the barricaded door of the apartment building close to the overpass and motioned for Hancock to follow her. They climbed the stairs to the roof, sun still high in the sky and glints from metal and broken glass below reflecting up like puddles of clear water. She put an arm over his shoulder and pointed, close enough to him to know where his line of sight was directed. 

“See the white figure over there?” 

“Sure do.” 

She was silent while he examined the distant creature. His eyes grew wide and he leaned over the edge of the roof trying to get a better view. Then he stepped away and looked to Nora with a concerned expression. 

“Is that what I think it is?” 

“A Legendary Alpha Albino Deathclaw,” she said, as if announcing a formal title. 

“Fuck.” 

“I’ve named him Steve.” 

“Steve?” 

“Yes.” 

“... Why Steve?” 

“I thought it would make him less scary. It didn’t work.” 

“Do we ever win?” He asked. 

“Against Steve? Never.” 

“Do we ever get close?” 

“Every so often.” 

Hancock popped a mentat from a tin inside his jacket pocket, took a deep breath, and nodded. 

“Let’s kick Steve’s ass, Sunshine.” 

She grinned. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard those words, but they did always make her feel a little better. He always made her feel a little bit better.

“Follow my lead,” she said. “We’re going to have to run.” She loaded the ammo and crouched down with her rifle to line up a shot. Her sniper rifle wasn’t powerful enough to cause any critical damage to the monster, but if she shot it just right, it would be handicapped by the time it inevitably attacked them. Often, she cursed herself for not bringing a more powerful weapon, thinking of the steamer trunk filled with other options back in Sanctuary, but she had to work with what she had. What she had wasn’t enough to damage Steve enough from up here. 

The second her singular shot went off, it would begin a timer. They would need to get down from the roof and under the overpass before the monster reached them. It usually took 1 minute and 40 seconds. It gave them the best chance with the cover it offered and that first shot from the roof only helped if she made a direct hit to the eye. 

Nora took a deep breath. 

“Are you ready?” 

“Bring it on,” Hancock’s voice was solid determination and buzzed with energy ready to be released. 

She brought the scope back to her eye, held her breath, and pulled the trigger. 

The bullet missed its eye by mere inches and Steve turned aggressively toward the direction the shot had come from. She cursed and immediately sprinted for the roof access door, Hancock close on her heels. They flew down the stairs and skidded to a stop on the asphalt. Nora pushed him toward the overpass and ducked underneath it. Terror rose in the back of her throat when she looked over her shoulder and saw the deathclaw gaining on them. Hancock was already shooting buckshot from his shotgun, but it did very little to stop what was coming. 

Nora’s own shots were barely noticeable to the beast, and she knew this was about to be one of those very painful loops. When they reached cover, they stopped shooting and went silent, hoping the deathclaw would lose track of where they were. She tried to stay closer to the edge of their cover behind the concrete barrier than Hancock, hoping when Steve reached them, he’d grab her instead. She hated watching Hancock die first. She wanted to avoid that at all costs. 

In her mind, she frantically ran through the various tactics she’d tried in thousands of loops. Not a single one had ever worked, though one time she had actually lassoed the deathclaw. Another time, they’d been fast enough to get away and halfway up the overpass before he tracked them down. A particularly interesting time had been when the deathclaw found them in a nearby abandoned apartment, indisposed, tangled up together in a threadbare bed. She still wasn’t sure how it had gotten up that fire escape. 

That wasn’t something she needed to be thinking about just now, though. 

“You know, there’s one thing I have never tried.” 

“Just about anything would be better than letting it tear us apart.” 

“Again,” Nora supplied with a sardonic grin. 

She rummaged in her pack, watching Steve as he picked around the area near the overpass, looking for them but unsure of their exact location. This was a very stupid idea, but she’d tried thousands of those in her desperation to get back to a timeline that continued. One where they didn’t die over and over again in some sort of cruel joke from the universe. Finally, she pulled out the single plasma grenade in her possession. Sure, she’d used it hundreds of times, but never in as reckless a way as this. 

Nora looked to Hancock where they hid beside the concrete barrier on the road. Grenade in one hand, she grabbed his lapel with the other and pulled him in close, pressing her lips urgently against his. He made a shocked sound when she kissed him, and she released him a moment later. It didn’t matter how many times they shared a brief kiss before the inevitable, he still always looked surprised. 

“What was that for?” He asked. 

“We’re going to die anyway, and you won’t remember this when it resets. So, why not?” 

“What if I remember?” 

“You won't,” she said, unable to force the morose tone from her voice. “You never do.” 

With that, Nora stood from behind the barrier and began walking toward the deathclaw’s location. She got closer and closer, and when she was within a hundred yards, she began to run. Steve noticed her and she shoved the panic in her throat down, picking up the pace and holding the plasma grenade in a death grip. He began loping toward her on all fours, but she didn’t slow her gait. Her plan, however ill-advised and reckless it might be, was to somehow get the grenade into the beast’s mouth before it detonated and sprint away in the confusion. Its tough-as-diamonds skin made it hard to wound, and even harder to kill, but maybe some internal injuries could do the trick… 

Nora pulled the pin when she could see the glowing red eyes. They clashed and Nora shoved the grenade toward the roaring mouth with dozens of sharp, deadly teeth with everything she had. She didn’t feel anything when the blinding blue light filled her vision.

The next thing she knew, Hancock was kicking her feet to wake her again. Glancing down at her with the same unknowing eyes - no idea of what they’d talked about, what they’d experienced, the loop before. Or the one before that, or the one before that.

“C’mon, lil vault dweller, let’s get this show on the road.”

“Well, that didn’t work,” she said to herself when she sat up on her bedroll and rubbed her temple. 

“What was that?” Hancock asked. 

“Oh, just died again, the usual.” 

His black eyes surveyed her critically, then he seemed to shrug it off and keep packing up his ammo.

Day number 1,275. Maybe day 1,275 was the charm. 

Notes:

Special thank you to Oraeliaa for her exemplary and inspiring work as a beta for this piece. <3 <3

And a shout-out to ink_stains for naming my deathclaw Steve.

Chapter 3: reload

Hancock tilted his head slightly, his expression still critical, but she could see him softening, considering. “I’ve heard some wild stories in my day,” he said, eyes narrowing with a hint of a smirk, “but this one takes the cake.”

Nora couldn’t help but smile, just barely. At least he wasn’t storming off yet. She turned her attention to the pipboy strapped to her wrist, her fingers moving expertly as she tuned the dial to the radio. She glanced at him, the faint crackle of the radio static filling the air between them.

“Travis is about to say, ‘Hey folks, we've got word coming in of a new settlement founded to the northwest,’” she said, holding out her arm so Hancock could hear. She lowered her voice to imitate Travis’ recognizable baritone, terribly. 

He stared at her for a moment, then at the pipboy, his lips pressed into a tight line.

The radio fuzzed a bit before Travis’ voice came on, clear and confident.

“Hey folks, we’ve got word coming in of a new settlement founded to the northwest.”

Hancock’s eyes widened, his skepticism faltering, but he still held onto a sliver of doubt. “Lucky guess,” he muttered.

“Wait for it,” Nora said. “Next, he’ll say: ‘It never hurts to have one more safe, reliable place in the Commonwealth.’”

Travis’ voice came again, echoing her prediction. “It never hurts to have one more safe, reliable place in the Commonwealth.”

“Next he’ll read an ad for Fallon’s Basement. Want me to tell you what it says word-for-word?”

Hancock held up his hands, shaking his head, the disbelief finally slipping away, replaced by a resigned acceptance. “…Alright, I get it.”

Nora crossed her arms, watching him closely as the realization began to sink in.

“…I guess this ain’t even the weirdest thing I’ve seen high on Jet,” he admitted with a shrug, though his voice had lost its usual playful edge. He was processing, trying to make sense of it.

Nora scoffed lightly, some of the tension in her shoulders easing. “You always say that, until we see the Deathclaw.”

He blinked, taken aback again, then shook his head, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You really do know me, don’t you?”

“Better than you know me,” she replied quietly.

He didn’t respond to that– at least not right away, but the weight of her words settled between them. For a moment, neither of them moved, the reality of the loop hanging heavy in the air. But this time, she wasn’t alone in knowing it. And maybe that would make all the difference.

Mercifully, Hancock didn’t ask her to elaborate further. He might have even thought she was joking. She wished she were. This was her 2000th day in the loop. She should have had a cake to celebrate. Instead, she knew she was headed for her inevitable death and rebirth, just like every other day for almost 5 years. 

Nora had found the view from halfway down a skyscraper both peaceful and terrifying, once she'd grown bored of the Deathclaw's glare. She'd tried running, both physically and into the welcoming arms of Chem's - but sheer stubbornness alone had done nothing to help. Nothing seemed to stop the loop, no matter what she tried. 

She saw the Corvega up ahead, steel curves and rusted continents making up a map of deterioration she had memorized like the back of her hand. She didn’t need to look ahead to know the raiders were there, upon the corrugated metal scaffolding at the end of the street. Hancock noticed, though, cocking his shotgun to her side before they reached the car. 

Nora dropped into a crouch and held her fingers to her lips, making a quiet shushing sound even as Hancock made to ask her a question. 

“What-” 

“Shhhh- Don’t ask questions, John, just follow me.” 

He acquiesced without much more protest and leaned back against the body of the car, facing her as she lined up her two-thousandth first shot. She indicated for him to stay where he was. She knew he wouldn’t listen. 

A crack and echo. The raider’s head rocked back. His body fell to the ground. The sickening crunch followed. It was all a rhythm she’d learned years ago. She could close her eyes and dance to the beat of it by now. 

One. Two. Three. 

Hancock’s body began to tense as he went to get up and join the fight. Like she had so many times before, Nora grasped a handful of his red velvet frock and shoved him back against the car. His eyes shot to hers like he’d been slapped. 

“I said stay put ,” she whispered, releasing him and diverting her eyes immediately, sighting her next shot in the ringing silence of the street before the raider encampment. 

Out of the corner of her eye, she could feel him watching her. His eyes had never left her. She stopped between shots and turned to regard him. He was silent, but his expression oozed with a bubbling venom beneath. She could practically feel the anger and frustration rolling off of him before she dipped back down to the scope and dropped another raider. Hancock had never been this vitriolic after accepting their lot in the loop, but it caused a rolling panic to uncurl in her stomach, worried this might be one of the times he deserted her and left her to die alone. 

She swallowed down the rush of dread and finished clearing out the raiders without a shout of alarm, pulling her rifle away from the rusted window and standing up once she knew that 11 bodies had fallen. The ghoul followed swiftly, his back to her as he dusted off his jacket with a loud slap. 

“Abso- fucking -lutely not, sweetheart,” Hancock spat, rounding on her, a vicious bite to the words he punctuated with a pointed finger. “I don’t care if you know what’s going to happen, you are not sidelining me.” 

She’d been waiting for the explosion, but it still surprised her when it ignited. Very little could surprise her these days. He was the only thing that ever did. She relished the conflict for the break of her tedium, then chastised herself for that enjoyment. 

“Is this what you’ve been doing the whole time? Bein’ some kinda commando, going at it all alone?” 

She took a deep breath, rubbing her eyes with her thumb and forefinger. “Well, you’ve been with me the whole way…” 

“But you ain’t been letting me fight, now, have you?” 

She shook her head. “Things are unpredictable when you fight.” 

“Uh huh, sister, and it means you can't control everything, huh?” He crossed his arms and gave her a measured look that made her want to squirm. Something about this loop didn’t feel like the others. 

She didn’t answer, and he took another step closer to her. 

“Someone hurt ya real good,” his voice was softer, the anger dissipating as he looked into her eyes and grasped her shoulders with torn and scarred hands. “But that don’t mean everyone is out to get ya.” 

Nora was stunned. It was almost as if he remembered… She knew that was impossible, but the way he looked at her– that sympathy, it only existed in the loops where she’d cracked, where she’d blurted or yelled or sobbed the truth of her awful childhood and the life she’d left when the bombs dropped. 

“I ain’t going nowhere and I ain’t out here trying to get you killed. We’re supposed to be partners, remember?” 

She nodded slowly and he released her, one hand lingering on her shoulder. How, after thousands of loops, could she still be surprised?

“Now,” he began. “Do you trust me?” 

Trust was a difficult word. There were many things she felt about the ghoul. Exasperation, protectiveness, and even sometimes sorrow. Could she count trust among them? She hadn’t outright trusted anyone since she was a kid, let down too often to care, but she’d been through so much with Hancock; more with him than anyone, even if he didn’t remember it. 

“I guess I do trust you,” she finally admitted, though the very word tasted metallic on her tongue. 

“Good.” Hancock said. “Then you’re gonna stop with the creepy solo time-warrior shit and we’re gonna keep going together, you feel me?” 

She nodded and holstered her rifle on her back, turning and indicating the direction toward their next destination: the plaza. They set off, and as if he had a sixth sense for breaking the tension with calculated one-liners, he leaned in toward her as they walked side-by-side. 

“Though, you can shove me around a little more,” he crooned. “That was pretty sexy.” 

“Oh, I know,” she said with a sideways look and a grin as they continued stepping over rubble and around crashed buses. “You’ve told me that a couple of times.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “Have I, now?” 

“There are some loops where we get… distracted,” she said with a knowing grin and a quick flash of a memory of pushing him against the wall of a crumbling apartment building and following the force with a feverish meeting of their lips. “But that definitely hasn’t changed anything.” 

“Distracted,” he echoed with a suggestive lilt to his voice and needing no further explanation. “And it hasn’t changed anything ?” He asked, voice rumbling in his chest. She noticed then how much closer he’d gotten to her while they walked. He could nearly whisper in her ear if he wanted to. 

“Well, now I know you agreed to come with me just to try to get in my pants,” she said. 

“That ain’t the only reason, but it certainly wouldn’t be an unwelcome outcome.” The line practically oozed out of his lips like honey. 

“You always say that,” she responded, quietly. 

“How many times?” 

“Only a handful,” she teased, the humor surprising even her as it filtered into her tone. “I’ve only lived this day maybe… 2000 times.” 

“No, lil vault dweller,” he chastised, leaning in close enough to feel the heat radiating off his skin, for Nora to bask in the mirror image of his grin. “How many times have you used your knowledge of the future to get into my pants?” 

They’d both slowed to a stop next to the steps of a long-abandoned building. Nora considered the question and felt herself redden with a rare blush. He gave a slow glance up and down her body and she swore she saw something behind those black eyes that gave her a sense of deja vu. And that was difficult, given the feeling had practically worn off within the first 500 days. 

“... a few,” she finally managed to say. 

The grin that spread across Hancock’s features was pure mischief and suggestion. 

“And absolutely nothing changed across those few times?” 

Things had changed. She’d changed. Hancock was the one who reset every morning, while she had the burden of keeping the memories of every single day. She remembered the bad days, but even the good ones were twinged with a sense of sadness and loss. She remembered everything, even if she wished she could forget. A memory flashed before her eyes, when Hancock had all but promised her he would remember. Whispered words against her throat before he peppered kisses along her jaw. A profession made as he held her close. He promised to remember . He never did. 

“We still die, John. The day still restarts. Nothing changes.” Gone was the playful tension. She knew he could feel it too. Hancock gave her a measured look, his eyes flicking from hers down to her lips for a split second she nearly didn’t catch. He nodded, leaned the short distance between them on the street and pecked her cheek, surprising her again. 

“Today, things are going to change,” he said, so confidently she could almost forget she’d heard the same words a hundred times before. He set off in the direction she’d indicated and she felt strange about being the follower on the journey. The sway with which he walked looked so carefree, it was almost contagious. 

When they got closer to the plaza, Nora sped up and caught his arm, shushing him with a finger to her lips. 

“Up ahead is a pack of ferals,” she whispered, and gave him a brief rundown of what waited for them. 

Nora stepped into the plaza, her footsteps rehearsed, automatic, like always. The familiar crackle of wind through the crumbling buildings reached her ears. She counted the beats in her head, just as she had a thousand times before. Twelve ferals. Each in their place. She knew their every movement.

She exhaled, fingers tightening around her 10mm. “Stay close. Follow my lead.”

He chuckled. “Sweetheart, if I’m in this, it’s gonna be a duet, not a solo.”

A quick flash of panic rushed through her, but she stamped it down as quickly as she could. She had told him she trusted him, after all. 

“You’ve got the dance steps memorized, but maybe it’s time you let someone else lead for a change.” He grinned at her, the corners of his mouth creasing in that infuriatingly charming way. 

She opened her mouth to argue, to insist that it was too dangerous, that she couldn’t afford to lose control of the situation—she couldn’t afford to watch him die in a spectacular failure, again. But he just gave her that look, the one that said “trust me,” and “we can do this,” all at once. 

With a sigh, she relented, feeling the oppressive fear fluttering in her chest. “Fine,” she muttered. “But follow my lead. No heroics.”

His grin widened. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

She gave him a quick nod, and they stepped fully into the plaza together. She counted in her head, each beat familiar, even if the dynamics had shifted. The ghouls stirred, their decayed bodies moving toward them from the shadows, eyes empty, hungry. Twelve of them, just like always. She could feel their positions before she even saw them.

“First one, on the left,” she whispered. “Two seconds—”

But before she could raise her gun, Hancock’s shotgun boomed beside her, the sound ricocheting off the cracked plaza walls. The first ghoul’s head exploded in a spray of blood and bone.

She shot him a look. He winked.

“Two seconds was a little long, don’t you think?”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. Already, she was moving toward the next target. This time, though, she felt the shift. Hancock wasn’t behind her. He was beside her , his shotgun raised, moving in sync with her—not with the same precision she’d honed over two thousand loops, but with an intuition she hadn’t expected.

Two ghouls came charging from the right, and instead of stepping back, Nora ducked under Hancock’s arm as he fired at the nearest one. The other lunged for her, but before she could pull the trigger, Hancock’s boot caught it in the chest, sending it sprawling. Nora finished it off with a quick shot to the head.

“Not bad,” she muttered, impressed despite herself.

“Not bad? Come on, admit it– I’m growing on you,” he said, pumping the shotgun for the next round. 

“Focus,” she shot back.

They moved together, and for the first time, Nora didn’t feel the crushing weight of responsibility dragging her down. The routine was still there—her careful steps over the aluminum can, the precise timing of her shots—but now there was room for improvisation. For him.

A feral leapt from behind a pile of debris, aiming straight for Hancock. She didn’t have a clear shot, but he didn’t need one. His shotgun barked once, and the ghoul went down in a heap.

She smiled despite herself. 

Three more ferals charged, but they didn’t stand a chance. Hancock took one out with a close-range blast while Nora picked off the other two in quick succession. He stepped back as she swept her leg around, sending a final ghoul stumbling toward him. His elbow caught it in the face, and before it could recover, he finished it with a point-blank shot.

The plaza went silent, save for the distant rustle of wind and distant gunshots from deeper in the city.

They stood there, catching their breath. Nora looked around at the dozen dead ghouls scattered across the plaza, then back at Hancock, who was grinning like a kid who’d just pulled off the world’s best prank.

“See? Told you we’d make a good team,” he said, slinging the shotgun over his shoulder.

Nora wiped a smear of blood from her cheek and shook her head, unable to keep the small, grudging smile from creeping across her face. She couldn’t deny it, this was different. Better, in a way. Less like walking through the motions of a script she’d memorized a thousand times and more like… more like living . Maybe for the first time in a long time.

Hancock’s grin softened, and for a moment, there was an understanding between them—something unspoken, but real. He laughed, the sound light, warm, cutting through the familiar weariness of the day. “If this is how you let loose, I think I’ll stick around for the encore.”

She didn’t respond, not directly. Instead, she holstered her gun and gave him a nod of acknowledgment; a silent thank you for something she couldn’t quite put into words.

Maybe, just maybe, this loop would be the one to change things after all.

Nora walked a step ahead of Hancock, her body still humming from the adrenaline of the plaza. They’d cleared the feral ghouls without a hitch, working together as if they’d done it a thousand times—which, in her case, they had.

But even though they’d fought side by side in more loops than she could count, there were moments like this, quiet moments,  when the weight of everything she’d been through pressed down on her. When the burden of knowing and remembering felt like too much to carry alone.

“Gotta say, sunshine, I don’t know how you keep your cool with those ferals swarming us like that,” Hancock said, his voice cutting through the stillness. “You always seem to know exactly where they’re comin’ from.”

“Practice,” she said with a grin that faltered as she saw the overpass come into view around one of the high rises. 

The deathclaw was just ahead of them– the fight she knew, deep down, they were destined to lose– and she wasn’t sure how she was going to make it through the heartbreak this time. 

“We hardly know each other, huh?” Hancock continued when she stayed silent. “We’ve been through some shit, sure, but at the end of the day… we’re still strangers.”

Nora stopped walking, the words hitting her harder than she expected. She turned to face him, her expression guarded.

“No,” she said quietly. “You hardly know me. I know you very well.”

Hancock blinked, taken aback. “What do you mean?”

Nora let out a slow breath, avoiding meeting his eyes. She glanced up and could see the confusion there, the hint of concern. He didn’t know. He couldn’t know, because every time the loop reset, he forgot everything. Every conversation, every shared moment, every confession–  gone, like it had never happened.

But not for her.

“I know that grape mentats are your favorite,” she started, her voice steady but laced with an undercurrent of sadness. “I know that you and Jimmy had a wasteland cat you named Sparky after he lit his tail on fire getting too close to the generator.”

Hancock stared at her, his brow furrowed, but she didn’t stop.

“I know that you watched Vic’s boys kill a fellow drifter, and as revenge, you took the town from him. Left him hanging on the balcony while you gave the rest of Goodneighbor something new to pin their hopes on.”

Hancock swallowed hard, his usual bravado slipping away. “How…?”

“And you built a community,” she continued, her voice softening. “A dangerous community, sure, but one people are proud to be a part of.”

She took a step closer, her gaze meeting his. “I know that you took the radiation drug—”

“Because I couldn’t stand to look at myself in the mirror,” he finished for her, his voice rough, the words like a confession. He ran a hand over his face, as if trying to piece it all together. “I really told you all of that?”

“Yes,” Nora said, her voice almost a whisper now. “And I’ve told you just as much and more, but you always forget in the next loop.”

The silence that followed was heavy, stretching between them like a chasm. Hancock looked away, his expression unreadable as he processed what she’d said. 

“How many times?” he asked finally, his voice quieter than usual. “How many times have we had this conversation?”

“Too many,” she admitted. “Hundreds, probably. I’ve lost count.”

Hancock let out a low whistle, shaking his head slowly. “Damn.”

They stood there for a long moment, the world around them eerily still. The distant cry of a bird or maybe a radstag echoed faintly, but otherwise, it was just the two of them and the weight of all those forgotten moments.

“I’m sorry,” he said at last, his voice gruff. “I didn’t know. I mean, how could I? But… damn, Nora, that’s a lot to carry.”

She nodded, the tightness in her chest easing just a little. He might not remember everything, but in this moment, he understood. And that was enough.

“Yeah, it is,” she replied, her tone softer. 

He took a step toward her, closing the distance between them. His eyes searched hers, as if trying to grasp the magnitude of what she’d been through. “I wish I could remember,” he said quietly. 

She felt the sincerity, and her heart ached. 

For a moment, neither of them said anything. Hancock reached out, resting a hand on her shoulder, his grip firm and reassuring. Something still hung between them. Something unspoken, something that caused that tension between Nora’s shoulder blades when she thought of Hancock’s memory wiping every loop. 

“Alright,” he said, his voice a little lighter now, though the sincerity remained. “So what’s next? Deathclaw, right?”

Nora exhaled, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah. Deathclaw.”

“Good.” He flashed a grin, that familiar cockiness returning. “Then let’s go show that ugly bastard how we get it done.”

Nora chuckled, the tension finally breaking. “I like the sound of that.”

Notes:

The finale got away from me, so Chapter 3 has been split into two parts. (Very Deathly Hallows of me, I know.)

Thank you again to the stunning, brilliant, and talented Oraeliaa for her work as a beta on this timey-wimey monstrosity.

Chapter 4: reboot

They started walking again, side by side. She’d thought about it a hundred times today, but this loop felt different. She’d felt that optimism before and had those hopes dashed just as many times. There was something new between them now– something that hadn’t been there on previous loops and it made her nervous. Nervous to lose the fight and end up back in her bedroll, everything erased and reset. Nervous to lose Hancock in another ill-fated battle against the deathclaw. Nervous to find out what might be around the corner if they did win. Not likely, she thought, but wouldn’t that be something? 

Nora directed Hancock to duck into an alleyway with her, pointing silently up when they reached the rusting fire escape. When they made it to the roof, she ran through the motions of showing Hancock their greatest foe. The alpha albino deathclaw that picked along the edges of the bay near the overpass. She threw an arm over his shoulder and pointed it out. His eyes grew wide. 

“I named him-” 

“Steve,” Hancock finished. 

Nora stared at him, the unfamiliar feeling of shock flaring for a brief second. Had she told him earlier in this loop about Steve? 

“How did you know that?” 

He shrugged. “It’s what I’d name something I wanted to make less scary.” 

“It doesn’t work, does it?” 

“Not one bit.” 

Nora grinned, but still took note of the fact that Hancock had known the stupid name she’d given the deathclaw all those loops ago. He wasn’t supposed to remember. 

“I’ve found the best way is to try to injure him from up here, first,” Nora explained, unholstering her sniper rifle and dropping down to one knee to line up her shot. Before she could flick the safety on, Hancock loomed next to her and cleared his throat. She looked up from the scope. 

“I ain’t gonna promise it’ll work, but I have an idea,” Hancock said. 

He reached out and gently directed the barrel of her gun away from Steve, further west and stopped at a break in the buildings where sacks of meat could be seen hanging from ramshackle scaffolding. She looked through her scope and saw the camp of Super Mutants she’d tried to avoid most loops, and accidentally angered a few times. 

“Let’s let those ugly fuckers give Steve a bit of a fight first, then we can swoop in after.” 

Nora was taken aback. She had never considered letting the dangers of the wasteland fight each other. She had always, always thought it was on her shoulders to defeat every enemy. Single-handedly, most often. It hadn’t even occurred to her that someone other than her could do as much or more damage, leaving her a weakened enemy. 

It was brilliant. It was reckless. It was something only Hancock could have thought of. 

Nora smiled widely, standing back up and quickly pulling Hancock by his lapel for a quick kiss, something she’d done hundreds of times before. 

“What was that for?” he asked. 

“We might die, and you won’t remember when it all resets–” 

“Oh, I won’t be forgetting this time, sweetheart,” he interjected with a sideways grin. “Because this time, you won’t be dyin’.” 

She grinned, adding another mental tally mark to the surprises this loop, and crouched back down to set up her shot. She peppered the camp with bullets that grazed or wounded, but didn’t kill. The mutants whipped their heads this way and that, searching for the source of the onslaught. How many times had Nora crouched on this roof, holding her breath and trying to make a one-in-a-million shot to wound the deathclaw? This time she could just spray the camp with bullets, precise aim being an afterthought. It was almost relaxing. The group continued searching, and Nora shot Hancock a sideways glance and a grin as they found Steve, instead. 

They succeeded in wounding him, but at a great cost. 

Nora’s hands clenched the rifle as she scanned the carnage below. Steve roared, tearing through the last Super Mutant with brutal efficiency. Thick, green blood splattered across the cracked concrete as the last mutant's body crumpled beneath massive and unyielding claws, lifeless.

"Now or never, Sunshine," Hancock murmured beside her, voice gruff and tight with focus. His words seemed easy, but she caught the edge of tension behind them. In all of the loops where they went up against the deathclaw, they never made it out. She’d become listless about the battle, barely even frightened. Until now. This time, she felt everything.

Nora exhaled sharply, steeling herself against the knot in her gut. She wasn’t going to watch Hancock die again– not this time.

She glanced at him, his scarred face half-shadowed beneath his tricorn hat, his trademark smirk missing. His shotgun was already in hand, and as always, he seemed reckless, too fearless. She was too aware of his presence, too aware of how many times this had gone wrong.

But this time… this time had to be different. He’d said with such confidence that it would be, and she had to believe it. 

She nodded, and they moved. Down the fire escape, their boots clanged against the rusted metal. As they hit the ground, the air was thick with the metallic smell of blood and death, a stench that clung to the back of Nora’s throat. She’d been here before. Too many times.

Steve stood amidst the broken bodies of the Super Mutants, hulking, hunched, but not yet aware of them. Its massive shoulders flexed as it tore a chunk of flesh from one of the corpses, distracted for a moment.

“Gotta love his eating habits,” Hancock whispered, trying for levity, but his eyes were locked on the beast.

Nora lined up her shot, her hands shaking slightly. 

Her hands never shook. 

She knew this wouldn’t be enough, not even close, but it had to start somewhere. With a steady breath, she pulled the trigger. The shot slammed into Steve’s shoulder, a direct hit. It barely seemed to register, but it was enough of an annoyance to get his attention. The beast whipped around, eyes locking onto them with that unnatural, red glow. The ground seemed to quake as Steve reared back, letting out a bone-rattling roar.

And then it charged.

“Move!” Hancock yelled, diving to the side. Nora barely had time to react, throwing herself into a roll as Steve’s massive claws slashed through the air where she’d been standing. The wind from the swing sent her hair whipping around her face as she scrambled to her feet, reloading her rifle.

“Damn it, Hancock,” she muttered under her breath, her heart racing. Her fear wasn’t for herself, it was for him. Every death she’d witnessed, every time Steve had torn him apart before her eyes. It haunted her. She couldn’t let it happen again.

The ghoul was already up, shooting wildly, barely aiming, his body moving like it was part of the chaos itself. He weaved in and out of Steve’s range, firing shot after shot into the beast's side.

"Yeah, you ugly bastard! Over here!" Hancock taunted, grinning wildly, his eyes burning with reckless energy.

Nora watched him, her stomach in knots. Too close , she thought. He was getting too close.

“Stay back!” she called, her voice tight. But Hancock either didn’t hear her or didn’t care– he was still dancing with death, a little too loose with his shots, every movement on the edge of disaster. She had to remind herself that she’d given her word that she’d let him fight– that she’d fight with him instead of protecting him. But every instinct fought against that in her head and her fingers continued to tremble against the grip of her gun. 

The Deathclaw swiped at him again, its claws barely missing his head. Hancock laughed— laughed —but she saw the near-miss. Saw how close he’d come to being obliterated.

With practiced breath, she aimed at Steve’s legs. If they could cripple it, they might have a chance.

“Get ready!” she shouted, and fired.

The bullet hit its mark, slamming into Steve’s knee joint. The creature staggered, its movement faltering for the first time.

“Good one, sunshine!” Hancock called, but even he sounded more strained now.

Steve roared again, eyes blazing with fury. It wasn’t down yet. Far from it.

Before Nora could react, Steve lunged forward, faster than she expected for its size. Its massive claw swiped toward Hancock, and this time, it hit.

“Hancock!” she screamed, her heart seizing in her chest.

Hancock flew backward, his body slamming into the side of a ruined car. His shotgun skittered across the ground, too far to reach. For a moment, he didn’t move, and time seemed to slow. 

No, no, no—

She’d seen this too many times. Too many. Her mind raced, panic clawing at her. She couldn’t do this again. Couldn’t lose him again.

Steve turned toward her, eyes gleaming with primal hunger. It started its approach, each step shaking the earth beneath her feet. 

But Nora couldn’t tear her eyes away from Hancock. He wasn’t moving. Her chest tightened, fear crashing over her like a tidal wave. Get up, please get up… She’d seen him die too many times, seen that reckless grin vanish in a pool of his own blood, over and over. The time loop had stolen so many things from her, but watching him die, helpless to stop it, had always been the worst.

This wasn’t the time to dwell on two thousand days of torment. She only had one thing to focus on right now. 

With a ragged breath, she turned her focus back to Steve. The Deathclaw lumbered toward her, each step a heavy drumbeat in her chest. The sun glinted off its white armored skin, causing her to squint. She backed up, hands fumbling as she reloaded her rifle. Her mind raced through the possibilities. She needed a plan. Hancock was down. It was up to her now. If she died, she’d be right back in the time loop. Just another day, another attempt. But they’d never gotten this close to actually defeating him. 

Focus, Nora. She gritted her teeth, raised the rifle, and fired.

The bullet hit Steve’s side, but it wasn’t enough to stop the beast. It roared, claws swinging in her direction with a ferocity that made the air seem to ripple. Nora ducked, rolling out of the way just in time. The ground where she’d stood exploded into rubble as Steve’s claws shredded the asphalt.

Her breaths came fast and shallow. Her heart was fluttering within her chest, a metronome without a consistent beat as her eyes frantically scanned the battleground near the crumbling overpass and the bay. She wasn’t going to last much longer at this rate. Her own nerves were shot, and if Hancock didn’t get up soon, she wasn’t sure she’d even have the desire to keep going. 

A low groan cut through the chaos, and she spared a glance toward him. Hancock was stirring, pushing himself up on one elbow, blood dripping from a gash on his forehead.

“Ugh... Haven’t been knocked that hard since I beat Fahrenheit at chess,” he groaned, shaking his head.

Relief flooded her, but it was short-lived and Nora forced the emotion down, focusing on the drooling, injured creature before them. She knew they couldn’t rest, couldn’t celebrate - knew that Steve wasn’t done with them yet.

She was right. 

The Deathclaw charged again, this time coming at her full force, closing the gap faster than she could aim. Her heart seized; she had no time to dodge. But just before Steve could strike, there was a wild, echoing bang .

Hancock had fired.

The shot went wide– of course it did, the shotgun more of an extension of his unpredictable nature than something worth aiming carefully– but the noise was enough to get Steve’s attention. The Deathclaw skidded to a stop, turning toward him with a snarl.

“Yeah, that’s right, you albino bastard,” Hancock rasped, staggering to his feet. He wiped blood from his eyes, unsteady but defiant. “Come and get some.”

Steve roared, its enormous claws digging into the ground as it prepared to charge again, but Hancock wasn’t backing down. His lips curled into a grin, wild and reckless, and Nora’s heart ached at the hidden bravery behind the bravado. 

Her pulse quickened though as she watched them stand off against one another, as she realized just how reckless he was being. That bravery might just be the death of them both. Hancock wouldn’t survive another hit like that.

This was it. She had one shot left.

Everything seemed to slow. The world narrowed to just her, Hancock, and Steve. Her hands were trembling, and her heart pounded in her ears, but she couldn’t miss. Not now. Not when it mattered the most. She lined up the rifle, aimed for Steve’s skull, and held her breath.

Steve was almost on Hancock.

Nora squeezed the trigger.

The bullet slammed into the deathclaw’s skull with a sickening thud. How many times, on that roof, had she tried to land that shot? Had she aimed for that glowing eye and failed, and died for it - something was looking out for them today, her relief bubbling up within her, effervescent. Early, too early, she couldn’t celebrate yet. The creature let out one final, furious roar as it stumbled, its massive frame teetering. Then, slowly, with red eyes looking at her in a facsimile of disbelief, Steve crumpled to the ground. The weight of its body shook the earth one last time before it finally lay still.

The dust settled around them.

Nora didn’t lower her rifle until she was sure. Until Steve didn’t move again.

Her chest heaved, her whole body shaking with the release of tension. It was over. They had won. And for the first time in what felt like an eternity, the loop hadn’t claimed her.

Or Hancock.

Were they finally free ?

He staggered over to her, swaying slightly but with that familiar cocky grin plastered on his face. “Hell of a shot, Sunshine,” he rasped, wincing as he wiped more blood from his forehead.

Nora let out a shaky breath and finally lowered the rifle. Her legs felt like they might give out any second, but she managed to stay upright. She glanced at Hancock, trying to keep her expression neutral, but her heart was still hammering in her chest—still raw with the fear of losing him.

"You–" Her voice cracked, and she swallowed hard. "You could've died. Again."

Hancock’s grin faltered, just for a second. Something passed between them. They’d been through this together more times than he knew, shared so much more in the loops than he seemed capable of comprehending. He didn’t know the way her heart was ripped from her every time he died in the loop, the very reason for her insistence to keep him out of the fray in the first place. It hadn’t just been about keeping control, it had been because her feelings for the wise-cracking, dangerous ghoul had threatened to overwhelm her.  

“Hey, I’m still kicking.” He shot her a lopsided smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Gotta have a little faith, right?”

Nora looked away, her chest tight with emotions she couldn’t quite put into words. She shoved them down deep inside herself and forced a smile. 

“We did it,” she said softly, just above a whisper as she looked at the lifeless body of the deathclaw they’d once called Steve. He didn’t seem so scary anymore. 

After 2000 loops. 2000 times trying to defeat the undefeatable monster, they had finally won. 

And Hancock was with her, every step of the way. He was alive . 

“Well,” Hancock said, breaking the silence, “I don’t know about you, but I think we’ve had enough quality time with ol’ Steve.” He kicked the Deathclaw’s corpse lightly with his boot. “Guy never knows when to quit.”

Nora let out a breathy laugh, more from relief than anything else, and looked up at him. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Lead the way, Sunshine,” Hancock said, his voice softer now, as if sensing her unspoken turmoil. 

As they walked away from the ruins, leaving Steve behind, Nora cast one last glance at the beast. For the first time, there was no reset. No loop. Just forward.

Things in this loop had been different, after all. 

She jerked her head toward the crumbling overpass looming over them, and he gave a low whistle. It was their only way forward, she knew, but she’d never made it all the way across. Today was a day of firsts, inexplicably, so she holstered her rifle and set foot on the raised asphalt. She waited for just a moment, almost expecting some other danger to come out of the woodwork. For a raider to appear, or a creature, or…or something, ready to kill them both and put her right back to square one. A boot against her feet, a familiar voice telling her she’d had enough beauty sleep. She couldn’t do it, not again, not now that she’d tasted relief.

Nora took a second step onto the overpass, then a third, then made it a few yards. Nothing came to attack them. Eventually, they got to the very peak of the overpass, the crashing waves of the bay spread out below them and the skyline of Boston looming on the near horizon. Nora stopped to take it in, the sun glinting off of the few windows that hadn’t been shattered hundreds of years prior. Hancock stopped and leaned against the railing of the destroyed former interstate, arms crossed and watching her. He was silent and she felt the cool breeze of air that, for once, didn’t carry that metallic twinge of radiation. 

She turned to him with a genuine smile on her face, finally feeling like they might have actually gotten out of it. Maybe thousands of failed attempts had finally been washed away with one hard-won victory. 

“We’ve never gotten this far before,” Nora said reverently and quietly, as if afraid to jinx the whole thing. 

Hancock remained silent, his brows furrowed. 

Nora pointed back down the sloping overpass at a bright orange bus. “One time, we made it to that bus and Steve pinned us inside. That was the furthest we ever made it.” 

A wane smile crossed her lips in reminiscence. 

“That’s right. You wouldn’t remember that.” 

“No,” he said softly, his face scrunched into an expression of confusion and deep thought. “I– I think I do .” 

Her head snapped up quickly. 

“Now why do I remember that, Sunshine?” 

She was stunned into silence. Hancock pushed off of the barrier and began to pace, fortunately not waiting for an answer she couldn’t give. 

“All day it’s been happening,” he said. “A flash here, a phrase there.” 

Nora held her breath. 

“I just thought it was a jet flashback,” Hancock continued to pace across the cracked asphalt of the overpass. “Hell, maybe it is but-”

Nora couldn’t say anything. After all this time, all these sudden surprises, this was the one that had her completely floored. She’d never, never in 2000 days, expected Hancock to have any recollection of the loop. Sure, she’d wished for it every now and then, wished he’d remember things confessed or moments shared. But the very idea of him remembering also terrified her, because she knew the horrible things she’d seen, the ways he must have watched her die, the hopelessness you felt in this place between time. 

His hand was on his tricorn hat as he processed it all. He stopped and turned to her. His eyes met hers and she saw a storm of turmoil and realization there. She exhaled a breath she had forgotten she’d been holding. 

“I told you I would remember. That night in that old apartment. Before it all ended again, I told you–” 

“Hancock, you never remember–” 

“Two thousand days,” he muttered over her protests. “In my mind, I met ya less than a month ago, but you’ve known me for years at this point, huh? 

She nodded. 

“So you meant it.” He moved closer and she could feel the heat radiating from him as he kept eye contact with her. She couldn’t look away. Her heart beat loudly in her ears. She was terrified in a way the deathclaw hadn’t caused in a long, long time. 

“You meant it when you said you’d fallen for me, didn’t you?” 

Cold adrenaline washed over her like a wave crashing against rocks. 

She remembered that day. If she’d been capable of dreaming, it would have lived in that space as she played it over and over in her head. 

The ancient wood of the door to the third-floor apartment had splintered easily when Hancock kicked it in, his foot crashing against the weakened frame. Dust floated lazily in the air, disturbed by the force, but neither of them cared about the ruin around them. 

They had barely made it inside before they were in each other's arms again; lips colliding, hands frantically exploring as if they were starving for each other. This was a loop where Nora had flirted back, matching Hancock’s suggestive remarks with every bit of heat and fire he gave. And, as always, when they were together, it had quickly gotten out of hand.

Neither of them had wanted to stop. When she had shoved him back onto the threadbare mattress, his husky laugh echoed through the abandoned apartment. It was a sound that vibrated through her, grounding her for just a fleeting moment in this absurd, endless cycle. The old bed creaked beneath them, but neither paid it any mind as they lost themselves in each other.

Later, they lay tangled in the aftermath, bare skin against bare skin, their clothes carelessly scattered across the floor, blending in with the dust and decay. Hancock’s arm was draped around her, and she pressed her cheek to his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing. She could still feel the ghost of his kisses on her neck, his whispered words that made her heart tighten despite herself.

The moment hung heavy between them, and Nora knew she couldn’t hold it in any longer. If she was going to die anyway, might as well enjoy it while she could. She propped herself up on one elbow, her heart pounding.

“Against my better judgment,” she began, her voice tinged with a self-deprecating smirk, trying to make light of the seriousness in her chest. “I think I’ve fallen for you, John Hancock.”

She waited, every second stretched out, dreading his response, bracing herself for rejection or disbelief– or worse, indifference.

Hancock was silent at first. His black eyes searched her face, not in shock, but with an intensity that made her stomach flutter. Then, with a quick tug on her wrist, he pulled her toward him and caught her lips in another kiss, this one different from the others. It was soft, slow, and sweet. It wasn’t out of lust, but something deeper, speaking the unspoken without words.

Nora melted into the kiss, her body relaxing against him as his arm snaked around her waist, pulling her closer. The kiss deepened, and in that moment, she could almost let herself believe that maybe this time– just maybe – things would be different.

But when they finally broke apart, the weight she had been carrying returned, heavier than ever. The knowledge that this day would repeat, that this confession would be erased, gnawed at her. She could already feel the melancholy pooling in her chest, her heart sinking under the crushing weight of it all.

Hancock noticed the shift immediately. He gently tilted her chin with one finger, forcing her to meet his gaze. His voice was soft, concerned. “Hey, now. What’s wrong, Sunshine?”

Nora’s throat tightened. She wanted to bury it, to just enjoy this moment for what it was, but she couldn’t. Not anymore.

“You won’t remember this,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “When it all resets. When I die.”

Hancock frowned slightly, his hand brushing a lock of hair from her face. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to her cheek, then another along her jaw, his lips warm against her skin. “I will remember, Nora,” he whispered against her, his voice as soft and sincere as it had ever been. “I promise.”

She closed her eyes, holding onto those words as if they could anchor her, as if they would make a difference. But deep down, she knew the truth. It was an unintentional lie. One born of love and hope, but still a lie.

She’d died within the hour. The loop had reset like it always did. And when she’d woken up in her bedroll, the memories of their confession had been hers alone. Hancock had been the same as always, kicking her awake, packing his gear like nothing had happened. The day had reset, and with it, everything they’d shared had vanished from his mind.

She had stared at him that morning, heart aching, hoping, praying , that something in his eyes would tell her he remembered. That he would look at her with the same love, the same understanding he’d shown her the night before. But there had been nothing. Just the same casual smirk, the same easygoing quip.

The heartbreak had been sharp, immediate. She had wanted to scream, to shake him, to force him to remember, but instead, she swallowed the hurt, the dismay sinking deep into her chest. She had channeled her pain into cold, hard rage when they fought the raiders that day, her movements sharper, more brutal than ever before.

And after that day, she couldn’t bring herself to say it again.

What was the point? He would forget. He always forgot.

So instead, she had focused on protecting him. Each loop, she threw herself into keeping him safe, even if it meant she had to die. Even if it meant living with the constant ache of loving someone who couldn’t remember loving her back.

But now, here they were. They’d survived. They’d made it. She was still terrified that she’d wake up on that bedroll the next morning. She was pulled back into the moment, with the ghoul watching her expectantly, waiting for her answer. 

“I meant it, John.”

His black eyes searched hers. “Do you still mean it?”

Nora hesitated, the silence stretching between them, heavy like the air before a storm. His gaze never left hers, unwavering, waiting. The weight of the question sank into her, deeper than she expected. She thought of all the loops, the way her heart had wrenched every time Hancock met his fate before she did, the way it shattered a little more when he didn’t remember her confession, or how his ignorance of her feelings had left scars within her as deep as those on his skin.

But she also thought of everything else. The laughter, the banter, the times his presence had kept her grounded. The way she knew she’d have cracked long before now, gone utterly mad, if he hadn’t been there with her.

“Yes,” she said, her voice firm, but quiet.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I didn’t expect that lapse in judgment from you, but I guess it works out for me, doesn’t it?”

She rolled her eyes and swatted playfully at his arm, but before she could pull back, he caught her wrist in one smooth motion. His grip was warm, secure, and with a quick pull, he drew her in close– closer than she expected. The distance between them vanished in an instant, and her breath hitched as his hand slid to the small of her back, his fingers splaying against her skin, holding her firmly against him.

He dropped her wrist, and it naturally found its place on his shoulder as he gently cupped her face. His thumb brushed the delicate skin of her cheekbone, a touch so soft, so reverent, it felt like a quiet promise. 

“I think, maybe,” he began, his voice a low murmur meant only for her, rough but steady, “I’ve loved you for a long time. I had trouble remembering it until now. But it was there, all the same.”

Nora inhaled sharply, her heart stuttering at the words. He did remember. She searched his face, her mind racing, but her heart was speaking louder. Could it be possible? Could love transcend the loops, anchoring them even when time itself unraveled? Maybe he hadn’t known, hadn’t remembered fully, but the feelings had still been there, buried beneath the haze of reset after reset.

For once, she forced herself to stop questioning. To just feel it.

Her hands slid behind his neck, pulling him closer still. The world around them seemed to fade into a soft blur, leaving just the two of them in this quiet moment. Without another thought, she closed the distance, her lips finding his in a kiss that was both desperate and gentle, a mixture of everything she’d held back for so long. 

She kissed him with the intensity of someone who had lived a thousand lifetimes with him, someone who had loved him across time and death and back again. 

Hancock’s lips met hers with equal fervor, his arm tightening around her waist as if he never wanted to let go. In that moment, nothing else mattered—no loops, no resets, no fears of the future. It was just them. Here. Now. 

Standing on the peak of the overpass, carnage left in their wake, a dead deathclaw on the ground and the sun just beginning to dip behind the skyscrapers, they were oblivious to everything around them. They were lost, bodies flush against each other and formerly unspoken words discussed with lips too busy to speak. 

Nora was breathing heavily when they separated, and Hancock rested his forehead against hers, smiling. She couldn’t help but laugh lightly in response. 2000 days. It had taken 2000 days to get to this point and right now, she felt like it had all been worth it. 

Mercifully, there were no obstacles the rest of the way down the overpass. Rather than holding their firearms, Hancock had taken her hand in his without a word. They walked in sync until they stood together in front of what she’d begun calling the “ Macguffin Manor .” The old fishpacking plant that had been their original destination, 2000 loops ago. The one she thought might finally break the loop if they made it. 

The sight of mirelurk eggs in a nest just outside the door told her, however, that their fighting wasn’t quite over just yet. 

After the battle to kill Steve, a few mirelurks barely phased them, though. Hancock and Nora took them out like they’d been fighting side-by-side for an eternity. The stench of salt water and rotting fish permeated the air as they cleared the main floor and worked down through the levels. The basement held the reason for their quest out here in the first place.  

They secured the chem lab without another fight, and she pretended not to notice Hancock stuffing a few inhalers and tins in his pockets here and there. Marowski would already be losing his most profitable lab, he wouldn’t miss any of the inventory. With any luck, this would force him out of Goodneighbor for good. When Hancock had heard the owner of the Rexford had been telling his underlings to sell to kids, the wrath he’d displayed was terrifying. “That kind of shit doesn’t fly in Goodneighbor,” he had said before they set out on their mission. Nora had been killing two birds with one stone and taking care of an old grudge back in Diamond City with the same fell swoop. 

The two of them left the plant, both wanting to get away from the stench of rotting fish, and found a home nearby that had only been partially destroyed. The top level might have collapsed, but the rest of it was intact, and they sat on the steps to the wrapping porch for a long while. She refused when Hancock tried to convince her to get some sleep. She couldn’t afford to lose this day, to end up back in the loop after everything they’d been through. It would be the time it would break her, she knew it. 

The clock on her pipboy clicked past midnight and the date changed. She exhaled sharply. Never, not in almost 5 years stuck in the loop, had they ever survived past midnight. A few hours later, she finally felt like she could breathe again when the sun began to break over the horizon. By noon, she had begun to accept that maybe they’d actually escaped it. 

That night, she let herself fall asleep for the first time in half a decade of lived-days. Hancock held her close until she drifted off. Dreamless, peaceful, comfortable sleep. She’d missed that serenity, and she felt sleep begin to soothe the strains of the loop and disappear into the silence. 

She floated back to the edge of consciousness and for a moment, she was sure she could feel the jagged piece of concrete digging into her side and the light cushion of her bedroll. She waited to feel Hancock’s boots kick her awake. 

It didn’t come. 

She opened one eye and was surprised to see the same room and mattress in which they’d fallen asleep. Moth-eaten, orange curtains colored the sunlight into a warm glow. Long shadows were cast across the wall with the early morning light breaking through the window panes. The blanket across them was flimsy but comforting, tickling her as she adjusted. 

Hancock was already awake, his torn and calloused fingers tracing slow, deliberate patterns across her back. The touch was rough, but gentle, each stroke a soothing reminder that she wasn’t alone anymore. Nora lay with her head nestled against his collarbone, feeling the rise and fall of his chest, the steady rhythm of his breath against her ear. His scent, a mix of worn leather and smoke, was comforting in a way she hadn’t expected.

When he noticed her stir, he pressed his cracked lips tenderly to the side of her head. The gesture was intimate, unspoken, full of quiet affection that spoke louder than words.

“Shhh, Sunshine,” he murmured, his voice soft, rough around the edges. “It’s a new day.”

Nora smiled against his chest, the weight of those words settling over her like a warm blanket. “A new day,” she echoed, her voice hoarse with disbelief. “Fuckin’ finally.”

Neither of them rushed to move. For once, time wasn’t an enemy. They stayed like that, wrapped in each other’s warmth, savoring the stillness that had been so rare for so long. The urgency, the endless repetition that had haunted her for years– it was gone now, replaced by a gentle calm she hadn’t known in what felt like an eternity.

When they finally did rise from the bed, it was slow and unhurried. Every movement felt deliberate, like they were rediscovering what it meant to simply live without the weight of the loops pressing down on them. Hancock stretched lazily, his joints creaking with the motion, while Nora lingered for a moment, soaking in the quiet morning light filtering through the cracked windows. Eventually, they rose, dressed, and got back on the road, deciding to take a different route back to Goodneighbor. 

The trek was blissfully uneventful. The empty streets echoed around them, tall buildings disappearing into a soft gray sky. There were no ambushes, no raiders, no deathclaws lurking in the shadows. Just the steady crunch of their boots on the cracked asphalt. For once, the world felt almost peaceful.

As they walked, Nora filled the quiet with stories. Absurd tales from the countless loops she’d lived through. She spoke of the strange encounters, the ridiculous situations she’d repeated, and the ways she’d tried and failed to break free. Hancock laughed with her, his raspy chuckle full of life, a sound that made her heart feel lighter. Now that the nightmare was over, the loops felt less like a curse and more like something they could joke about, something they could leave behind.

She opened up more, too– letting him in in a way she hadn’t before. He’d forgotten so much, of course. The conversations they’d had, the things she’d told him over and over again in other timelines, lost in the haze of resetting days. But now, she told him again, this time knowing that he’d remember. The walls between them had come down, the distance between her guarded heart and his easygoing charm finally closing. His usual suggestive lines, the playful teasing she had once dismissed as empty banter, now carried weight. They were real, genuine, and they made her smile in a way she hadn’t for so long.

They talked and joked while they walked, the tension between them easing with every step, their footsteps falling in sync. Hancock’s easy laughter echoed through the stillness, and Nora found herself laughing with him, really laughing , for the first time in what felt like forever.

They both agreed, the first thing they’d do when they reached Goodneighbor was head straight to the Third Rail. A drink sounded like salvation. They’d sit in the smoky, dimly lit bar, order something strong, and try to forget together. Forget the loops, the pain, the endless repetition and just be .

As they rounded the corner of a building, a surprised shout rang out in the crisp air. They both quickly ducked behind the corner again and grabbed their firearms. 

“Gunner,” Hancock said in a whisper. “With more behind him.” 

He’d caught a good enough look to know, whereas Nora had only seen the machine gun in the stranger’s hands. She nodded seriously and reloaded her rifle. 

“What do you want to do?” She asked Hancock. He grinned at her before answering– they both knew that once, she’d rather have clawed her own throat out than relinquish control to someone else. But she trusted him. They worked together like a well-oiled machine at this point. She knew they couldn’t take on a well-trained group like the Gunners without relying on one another. 

They laid out a plan together quickly, Nora taking the further away targets with her ranged rifle and Hancock taking on the ones on the street. They nodded to each other and just before they popped out from behind the corner, Hancock pulled her in for a brief kiss. She smiled back when they broke it. 

“For good luck,” he said, and they both jumped into action. 

Nora dropped to one knee and aimed her rifle. Hancock rushed at the Gunner they’d startled, one shot to the chest from his shotgun silencing any further shouts of alarm. In a flurry of gunfire, they quickly decimated the numbers of their ramshackle outpost. Nora stood and moved closer to target those hiding behind the cover of corrugated metal walls. 

In an instant, pain ripped through her nerves like fire, and Nora gasped, the air leaving her lungs in a ragged rush. Her rifle slipped from her grasp and clattered to the cracked asphalt, the sound distant against the roaring pulse in her ears.

A lucky shot. Straight to the gut.

Her hand flew to the wound, instinctive and desperate. When she brought it back, slick and warm, it was covered in deep red, the blood seeping through her fingers, hot and unstoppable. Her mind screamed at her to act, to keep fighting. She unholstered her pistol, her trembling left hand lifting the weight of the 10mm. She wanted to aim, to squeeze the trigger, but the strength fled from her fingers before she could fire. The gun slipped from her grip, falling beside her with a dull thud, and her knees buckled beneath her.

The ground came up to meet her.

Nora sank to the ruined street, the world spinning as her blood pooled beneath her. The taste of iron coated her tongue as her vision blurred at the edges. Somewhere, far away, she heard the sharp crack of a shotgun, and then the shooter, the one who’d hit her, collapsed like a rag doll, his chest blown apart by the blast.

Silence followed. It rang in her ears, heavy and final.

Hancock was at her side before she could fully register the fall, his arms around her, pulling her back against his chest, supporting her as her body began to fail. His breath was ragged in her ear, panicked, and she felt his hands, rough and scarred, fumbling to tear away the blood-soaked fabric of her vault suit. The wound was ugly; concave and gushing dark blood, with no exit wound. Just a bullet lodged somewhere deep inside her.

Her vision dimmed further, the world swimming in and out of focus as her feet went numb beneath her. She’d been here before, too many times to count. The cold embrace of death was nothing new.

Thousands of deaths, all of them blurring together.

What was one more?

But this time, it was different. Hancock’s voice was there, raw and frantic. His hands gripped her tighter as he called her name, begging her to stay with him, the desperation in his voice slicing through the haze. His words were garbled now, incoherent, but filled with anguish.

Her heart ached for him, for the man who’d fought beside her and loved her across space and time. 

She wanted to tell him it was okay. That she’d be back. That this wasn’t the end… but she didn’t know that. They’d broken the loop. This was final. This was it. Her voice wouldn’t come. Her body felt far away, the pain was gone. 

It was like slipping beneath the surface of an endless black ocean, sinking deeper with each breath.

And then, she was gone.

But in an instant, again, she awoke.

There was no pain. No blood. No sound of gunfire or the suffocating silence of death. Instead, there was warmth, soft and steady, enveloping her like a quiet, familiar comfort.

Before she even opened her eyes, Nora felt the give of the mattress beneath her, the slight dip where her body pressed against it. The weight of a scavenged blanket pooled around her waist–  tickling her as she moved, and she felt the slow, gentle rhythm of fingers tracing idle patterns on her bare back. She breathed in, and the air smelled of him– of old leather and smoke. It filled her lungs, grounding her in a way that almost made her believe it had all been a dream.

But it hadn’t. She knew better. She didn’t dream. 

Slowly, reluctantly, Nora opened her eyes.

Golden sunlight streamed in through the window, casting a warm glow over the room. The old curtains, the same old orange, moth-eaten curtains, fluttered in the soft breeze. The same patterns crawled across the wall, casting long shadows in the early morning light. Everything was achingly familiar, down to the smallest detail. The feeling of deja vu, something she’d stopped feeling years ago, returned with a vengeance. 

Her heart twisted painfully in her chest. 

She pressed herself closer to Hancock’s chest, seeking something to keep her steady as her mind whirled with the implications of what she was seeing and feeling. She’d been here before. She’d seen and felt all of this before. And she knew what that meant. 

Nora swallowed the lump in her throat, feeling Hancock’s steady breathing, listening to the soft rasp of his voice as he spoke.

“Shhh, Sunshine,” he whispered, his lips brushing her temple. “It’s a new day.”

It was an unintentional lie. He didn’t know. He couldn’t remember. 

Notes:

That's all, folks! I hope you enjoyed the journey through time and space with Nora & Hancock.

This story was inspired by my current Fallout 4 play through, in which I am always forgetting to quicksave and Hancock keeps ruining my stealth.

If you liked this story, make sure to check out my beta, Oraeliaa's work. She's one of my favorite writers on ao3. This fic wouldn't be half as polished without her sharp eye and attention to detail. <3

Come find me on tumblr, where I post graphics and mood boards for every chapter I post. :)

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of quicksave