Hey Charon,

I don't suppose it would do much good asking how you are, because I already know. You're dead. That's why I'm writing a letter- I wrote one to my Dad and even to my Mother, and so I think I'll write one to you as well.

I hope you don't mind me writing this with a blunt pencil on the back of a finance sheet… literary supplies are short and I don't think they'll be making any more for a long time- guns are a lot more effective in the Wastes.

Back to the point.

We weren't friends, to be honest (Actually, most of the time you were a dick). I hired you because you were convenient and Ahzrukhal had assured me you were efficient, vigilant and most importantly- completely obedient. Barely out of the vault and I was being hunted by Talon Mercs for reasons I wasn't entirely sure of at that time (Yeah, fuck you too Burke), and there you were. All it would take was one bullet, one innocent person.

Damn, that was a desperate few months. I suppose this letter is a confession too- I killed Greta to get your contract. She was smoking in the lobby and I slit her throat, then moved the body into the hall so it looked like the feral ghouls got to her.

It was the first time I'd cried since leaving Vault 101; Carol had looked so heartbroken and at that point the enormity of taking an innocent life because of my own selfish desire to live really hit me. I know I freaked out when you killed Ahzrukhal, but in hindsight I'm glad you did. He was an evil bastard. Just one more thing to thank you for, I guess.

Once again, back to the point (Is there a point to this?). I was paranoid beyond measure and the chance to have a bodyguard that could by no means betray me seemed too good to be true. While I'm sitting down writing this letter I realise you were the only thing that truly didn't disappoint me. I don't care if you did it out of obligation or because you felt sorry for the kid who could hack a terminal with her eyes closed but couldn't hit a radroach at point blank range. You were painfully loyal until the end.

The fact I never knew your motivations not so coincidently makes me think about other things I never knew about you- and will now never get the chance to know. How did you end up with Ahzrukhal? Why were you brainwashed in the first place? Did you have a life before your contract? Did you ever want that life back?
And then I realise none of it matters because I never would have had the guts to ask you anyway. You weren't a very talkative one.

In fact, the first and only time I ever really got more than three words out of you was on my 20th birthday. Also the first time I'd tried alcohol, and I'd ordered you to try it with me. Looking back I'm pretty sure Moriaty had pissed in the bottles; that old coot hated my guts after I refused to pay him 100 caps for information on Dad, and afterwards he found himself mysteriously locked out of his own terminal. Either way I managed to get you drunk and humming along to Butcher Pete with me.

Sorry if you didn't have as much fun as I did, but I guess after my entire life went to shit I didn't want to celebrate my birthday alone.

Another thing I've been thinking about far too often is what would have happened if you hadn't died. If you hadn't took the shot for me. And by all means, it should have been me. You didn't deserve that, Charon. I don't care if you were a miserable bastard; self-sacrifice- intentional or otherwise- wasn't part of the contract. Three Dog went to my head and I thought I was some kind of big shot- some kind of hero. But I couldn't save Greta, couldn't save Dad, and couldn't save you. A year in the wastes and what the fuck do I know?

I asked Fawkes about this and he simply said that perhaps I was driven by fate, intended for some higher purpose. Fawkes is the new guy, by the way. I use the term 'guy' loosely; he's actually an intelligent super mutant (You have to see it to believe it). I know the dead can't feel, but I didn't take the choice of bringing him along lightly… it somehow felt like I was betraying you.

He's not so bad, really. Mutie's a bit chattier than you ever were, but he still helped me make a grave for you and Dad. I hope you don't mind having a grave next to my Dad. He's a good guy, really.

I also hope you don't mind the fact I couldn't recover your body. It all happened so fast and it wasn't even until we'd reached the Citadel the truth sunk in. I didn't know what to do with your contract so I'm going to bury it with this letter. I have no idea what would have happened if I'd made you the carrier of your own contract, and now I guess I'll just have to add it to the list of questions you'll never answer. Here's to hoping it will give you some kind of peace. If I survive this I'll go back into the sewers and look for you. You deserve that much.

I know I haven't written much but I'm not sure what else to talk about. I don't believe in the afterlife (meaning I don't think you'll ever see this), so I suppose this is just a coping mechanism. For me. Another selfish thing I've done, apparently.

Regardless of the things you'd done before your last contract, I'm glad I met you. If I had known you would have died under my command, and if I had known just how badly your death would fuck me up, I would have left you in the Ninth Circle. I would never have shot that poor woman Greta. I may have even let those Talon Mercenaries come after me considering all I've done is get people gruesomely killed.

The Brotherhood of Steel and I are going to try to retake the Memorial and start Project Purity for the good of the Wasteland. I like Fawkes, but part of me wishes it was you with that battered shotgun fighting what may be the final battle. After the shit I put you through, it was as much your fight as mine.

Honestly, Charon? Death will be a relief. If there really is life after the heart stops pumping I hope I can finally ask you all those questions I'd wish I'd asked while I still had the chance.

No, we weren't really friends. But it was still an honour.

Thanks.