AN: This is sort of set in an alternate universe. The Lone Wanderer is evil, and is a chem fiend. He's probably seventeen years old? I can't really decide. But his father wasn't good, like the original story portayed. Ace was molested as a child by his father, hence his addiction to basically everything. Charon and Ace have sort of a "Love and Hate" friendship, which eventually spawns into something else, note the pairing. Haha.
Suggestions would be lovely, since this just sort of plopped out of my head today during class...
Nimble fingers were hastily thumbing the soaked matches, trying to summon a flame to life. The teen cursed under his breath, the cigarette limp between his lips. He tossed it aside angrily and came sloshing out of the irradiated pond, glaring down at a raider's corpse which floated harmlessly in the water near him. He picked through the raider's pockets and found a few caps and some psycho, stuffing them in his bag. He stomped out of the water, plopping down on the barren Earth and pulling his boots off, water escaping them and crashing down on the hot sand. Dogmeat had come bounding near him, slowly thumping his tail against the dirt as he watched Ace closely.
"It's not safe here." Charon's raspy voice reminded him, and he peered up at the ghoul who was awkwardly attempting to stand in front of him, his legs badly wounded. Probably crippled, Ace thought, weighing the idea. He peered back up at the bridge, which had earlier been stacked with cars. Upon nearing the bridge, they had discovered it was infested with crazed raiders, one who had tossed a plasma grenade into the air. Ace hadn't even had time to think, merely standing and staring as it detonated in a blue flurry. He did however remember Charon yelling that it was going to blow, and then the force of the explosions knocking him off the bridge and into the water.
He scratched his head, feeling the moisoned locks inbetween his fingers, then recoiled when he felt a stinging pain. He flinched, then viewed his hand, which was soaked in blood. He blinked, and stared up at Charon's distorted ghoulish face. "I think..." He paused. "I hit my head." He said dumbly, after a few moments. The world became a little fuzzy and another one of the cars promptly exploded in the background, a mushroom cloud developing. Ace stood up, vision finally focusing on a tent not to far off the bank on the other side of the large pond. "Let's make camp there tonight," He stated, and they pushed onward. Dogmeat followed cautiously, whining at his two wounded companions, and following Ace like a shadow.
The tent was dusty and abandoned, two mattresses haphazardly set on the rocky ground. Picking the lock to a medical kit which had been carelssly left behind, Ace discovered a few stimpaks and a single syringe of Med-X. Ace handed the kit to Charon, keeping the drug to himself. Charon took it without a word, the tall ghoul's eyes flicking over the syringe. He knew what would happen next, but spoke not a complaint of it. Not that he really could, anyway. Sitting dizzily on one of the filthy mattresses, he rolled up his sleeveand took off his belt, wrapping it tightly around his arm. Pulling the cap off with his teeth, he pressed the needle into his vein and winced for a moment as the cool liquid invaded his system.
He sat back for a moment, breathing heavily and enjoying the high. The dull throbbing pain in his head was now a distant memory.
Eventually Charon's voice hazily made him snap out of it, and he frustratingly pulled himself up off of the dirty mattress. "You're wounded, you should heal yourself." Charon's voice cracked as he reminded the junkie, who could now feel the warmth of the blood descending on his neck. He could see the pale moonlight creeping through the tent flap, and pondered how long he had been there.
He found himself shivering uncontrollably, and between his teeth chattering, asked Charon to start a fire. Charon stood, not as wobbily as before and left the tent to search for trash to burn. Ace rubbed his hands together to generate a little warmth, and injected a few Stimpaks into the back of his head. He could feel the skin tingle a little, and felt better. The healing process would be sped up a little bit, anyway. Feeling his lids grow heavy with sleep, he felt himself drift off again.
He awoke a few hours later, his eyes taking a few moments to focus. Dogmeat licked his hand, whining and nuzzling his muzzle against the teen's ribs. The dog wanted food, obviously. Ace started to pull himself up tiredly from the hard, overused mattress, but stopped when he'd discovered a thick leather jacket draped over him. He pulled his oily green locks out of his face and stared at the reddish-tinted ghoul across from him. Flames lit up his face eerily, casting deep shadows in the hollows of his face. The fire sat in the middle of the tent, large rocks in a circle around it to keep it contained. Yet still, the flames licked up greedily for something to ensnare in their grasp.
The ghoul's cloudy eyes met his gaze finally, and he heard him clear the phlegm from his throat and ask, "Is there something you want?"
Ace pressed lips together, wetting them, and paused. He tossed the heavy jacket back to the ghoul, simply stating thanks.
The ghoul didn't reply, not that Ace had expected him to. Charon really wasn't the conversation type. Ace was already rummaging through his bag anyway, searching for something to feed Dogmeat with. Finally finding a hunk of mole rat meat, he handed it to the dog, who gently took it in his muzzle and went to the corner of the tent to scarf it down. Ace could feel eyes boring into his back, and when he turned, Charon quickly flicked his gaze away.
Not another word was said that night, but an uneasiness lingered between the pair.
R&R! I could use suggestions.