Yes, this is yet another Charon/FLW fanfiction. I have read some good ones but I have to say...I can't help but try and write another one. I figured all my good ideas are used up but this one plot had me thinking. Its more for me than anything else, but do let me know if it sounds good or not. First chapter is up for this and I don't think the story itself will be very long, no more then four chapters or so. I had wanted it to be a one-shot...but i realized thats not gonna fucking happen.

Anyways, I don't own fallout. Like it really has to be said, cause if I did there would be an option to screw the unflinching silent ghoul...

Enjoy.

She may as well have lived here for all the times she'd hunkered down, sometimes for weeks at a time, coming in from the wastes, filthy and haggard. Always ready to purchase a few drinks from Ahzrukhal. Always ready to plunk her sooty ass in the seat closest to him and stare. Stare and smile. Stare, smile and talk.

He frowned, crossing his arms and tightening them into bulging biceps. The bar was empty now, noon was a slow time for the Ninth Circle and he took time in the solace to blank out the smells and atmosphere of the bar, now thinking back to the little Vaultie that was causing such talk as of late.

Of course she had tried to talk with him the first couple of times she'd visited the bar but he'd give her credit for being a fast learner. After his initial brush off she only tried a few more times to converse with him, each time he would just glance at her and then resume his 'vigilant' post, ignoring her completely. From then on she just satisfied herself with handing him over odd looks and long gazes. He passed them off as a brilliant new way in which he was being fucked with. A little past-the-time game she had invented, he knew since he had many of his own he played.

Besides, he was just as good at ignoring his surroundings as he was popping a bullet between a breather's eyes. Right now, from what he heard the Vaultie was comatose, and had been for the past four days. Recovering down in the clinic from, what Charon could decipher, was some sort of massive head injury. It was hard to figure out exactly what was wrong with her based on the rumors that he'd been over hearing from the fellow patrons of the bar. Some said one thing, others said another…and some said she had left again, that she was just faking the injury to score some dope from Doctor Barrows. He could believe anything at this point. The Vaultie was a conundrum…one he didn't even bother to understand.

The other night he happen to eavesdrop on a long time resident ghoul who'd heard from Willow that she was indeed in critical condition, saying that the girl had dropped down a few feet from the Museum with blood cascading from her head. The ghoul, Charon remembered, was a good friend of Willow's, maybe even more, and if someone was going to have reliable information it would have been him. Apparently someone put a bullet in her skull, how she managed to make it two steps let alone all the way to the Museum was a feat in its own right.

He shifted his stance, relieving the pressure from the soles of his feet for a moment before resuming his former position. The door creaked and immediately his eyes slid over to the female ghoul who gentle shut the door behind her and made her way to the bar. She was a regular and never caused any trouble, so Charon returned to his previous thoughts.

The last time she'd come through those door was almost a month ago. Like always she ordered her drink and sat down at the table besides him. He never would admit it but watching her when she wasn't looking was another pass-the-time game he had decided was much more fun than count how many times Ahzrukhal dilutes the whiskey.

Even when she wasn't trying to get his attention she always seemed to be doing something. Either she was playing with that device on her wrist or she was reading. He couldn't deny he enjoyed being able to look over at what ever it was she was reading and be able to do so himself. In fact, he managed to learn a few things about "..lying congressional style.." and how best to avoid a 'two-by-four' to the head. Even the ridiculous adventures of Grognak the Barbarian were a shine to his normally stagnant days. That day, a month or so ago, she was reading a fat book about medicine, one he'd seen her read before. He was busy watching a few ghouls enter into a heated argument, the topic he didn't listen in on, the fact was that they were getting loud and the looks on their faces was evident of a possible brawl.

She had started talking, and in turn his eyes shifted to the side in her direction and then down to the dusty blond head of curls. At first he felt frustration at the nonsense that she was spewing, especially after being used to her staying mute for most of the time, and then the words formed a logical structure.

"….the blastema forms, creating a pattern of HoxA and HoxD genes….similar to the cells that formed the tissue during the embryonic stage…motor neutrons, muscles and blood vessels begin to grow with the introduction of these specific stem cells…" she spoke fluidly and all the while kept her nose stuffed in the book, then as she finished she made a small pondering noise.

The bickering between the two ghouls in the corner had continued, even increased slightly, but he kept his gaze on her head until sure enough she slowly turned her stare from the book to him. As if she was expecting him to be looking back at her, which he was, she smirked and licked one finger…slowly, using the wet digit to turn the page.

At first the action did nothing but confused him, but her words, and the repeat of her 'finger lick' in his mind gained meaning the more and more he dwelled on it.

Now, as he stood alone with only the now buzzed female ghoul and his employer on the other end of the bar, the recollection caused a brief electrical spike in his belly. It was the kind of feeling you got when something really arousing popped into you mind. It disgusted him as well as aroused him…though the disgust he determined was more evident then the tingling sensation in his lower belly.

He shifted again, bringing his arms down to his side, letting his fingers curl and un-curl. With a nice deep inhale he then exhaled, and with it the feeling of mild desire dissipated. It was smart of him to just ignore any lingering human emotions, not because he was a ghoul…but because he was bound to serve. What ever his employer wanted, he wanted too. He couldn't afford to have his own wants…not when they did nothing but make his existence that much more meaningless.

His torn and disfigured face became once again the cold stern façade of the ghoul soldier he was suppose to be.

The week went by with very little quarrels, normally when Quinn kept up with his on-going trade routes the citizens of Underworld had little reason to over drink themselves away.

The sound of pressurized air releasing went off in the corner in front of him to his right. A ghoul was huffing some jet; eyes rolling back to the point where all that was visible was white. The bar was common ground for ghouls to get as fucked up as all hell in peace, and that's what many did. Ahzrukhal always had supply at hand for the junkies. Charon admitted that he would have been doing the same as the ghoul in the corner if it didn't take more the six canisters for him to feel even remotely high. In the end it wasn't worth it. He was fine with what little booze Ahzrukhal allowed him to drink, which was more then some would think.

Later, around six in the evening some ghouls came in, drinking and talking amongst themselves. Charon couldn't seem them, they were on the other side of the divider wall to his right, but he could sure as hell hear everything they were saying.

"..yeah Graves looked pissed, don't think she likes the idea of that smoothskin hangin' around….Doc' sure knows how to make that bitch steam."

"She's just jealous. Women, ghoul or otherwise are just slaves to their emotions…"

"…I get it…the smoothskin gets a lot of attention…not her fault thou'."

There was a small cough and a grunt or two before the first one spoke again, "Yeah, well from what Grave's was mumblin' it sounds like that smoothskins awake and causin' quite the ruckus…trying to leave or some shit…but Doc' won't have it."

Charon leaned against the wall, keeping an eye out for Ahzrukhal who was at the moment not present behind the bar. It felt like a guilty pleasure to listen in on the three speak about the Vaultie, but he wasn't going to deny his interest in her current status anymore.

"..tough girl to survive a .44 shot to the head, my soft melon would be cracked open like that!" He heard fingers snap and a greasy chuckle from two of the ghouls.

"Gurllsss lucky..thats for sure."

"..ha!..doubt she'd think that, being stuck here for a week with hair missin' and a nice bundle of stitches on top her head…you know how them smoothskins are about their looks."

"…maybe that'll make her easy, haha!"

"Yeah! Lower those fucking standards!"

They all laughed, even the more polite one of the group. Charon leaned back from the wall and folded his arms again, letting them cross over his abdomen. He frowned, imagining the sight of the Vaultie with half her head shaved and fresh squishy stitches curving around her scalp. For some reason the image was a bit more appealing then he thought it would be. The sight a little closer to home perhaps..

The groups banter faded out as Charon was left with his thoughts again. Ahzrukhal had found his way back behind the bar, and proceeded to clean the sticky countertops with an equally sticky rag.

He sneered at the sight but kept his grumble last thing he wanted was to get his employer's attention. In the midst of watching the air particles gleam down in the light of the bar, a faint smell lifted its way into his nostrils. It was heady and had a bitter antiseptic aroma to it. Bitter…he frowned and turned to the double doors, just as the right knob began to turn.

Before the door could open he had a good idea of who it was..but that didn't help the surprise he felt when she actually managed to pull herself past the cracked opening and into the bar. Her face was puffy, cheeks red and her eyes held dark circles under them. The fact that she was sporting a tilted red baseball cap made the whole sight a little comical. Despite what he had over heard the ghouls saying she didn't look like she had any hair missing, large amounts touched her neck and back in ratty curls.

She didn't look good…but he figured, she didn't look all that bad either. He kept his eyes on her, expecting her to look over at him like she always did but no look every came his way. He almost felt…offended? No….he wasn't even going to think of how he felt.

She didn't even come over to her usual spot after she ordered a drink, just sitting at the bar, staring into her coffee cup of liquor.

He didn't even feel his teeth begin to clench or his lips press together into a large line of discontent, nor when his eyes narrowed down. She just sat there, drinking her booze with her back to him.

After all the times she had nagged for his attention, plotted to get him to acknowledge her in the slightest, and every time she had made some little odd sultry gesture…now all she was going to do is ignore him like he had ignored her. If he had been a less intelligent man he may not have understood the game…or maybe he was hoping it was a game.

When she got up, placing her caps on the counter, he felt the muscles in his arms flex and tighten. She turned with her back to him heading for the door. He stared at her, his head turning as she got closer to the door. He felt his mouth part, words popped into his brain but he refused to let them turn into sound.

At that point it might have been better if she hadn't looked at him, if she hadn't spared him a little glance before she'd left the bar, but she did. She turned her eyes to him, where he always stood and saw the look on his face. From the coy smile that he witnessed he knew the expression on his face must have been bad…bad for him.

She must have seen his look of annoyed loneliness. She had ignored him and gotten just what she wanted out of him; proof of something other than indifference. Now she knew he was at least affected by her presence. Hell…she may have even known from that look that he even enjoyed her company…

When she left the door shut quietly behind her, even though too him it sounded loud and cocky. She'd caught him. He stood with his arms at his sides, a larger frown on his face and his grimy heart thumping in his chest. If he'd still had working skin left it would have been riddled with goosebumps…or red. All he could think of was what a bitch that Vaultie could be…

The next day she was back, back to her normal habits. This time, however she had with her a blank book. A warm beer stood tall next to the open wordless pages and a creamy snack cake teetered on a pair of biker goggles. She was leaning back in her chair and scratching at her scalp.

When she had come in that afternoon he had seen the damage, thanks to a new hair cut she gotten from Snowflake. Her scalp had been shaved in various places leaving some patches of hair in stylish places. Some fringe covered her left eye brow and a few curly pieces were left on the sides. He wouldn't say it, but it suited her in an odd way. Though with the hair cut, he and everyone else could see the patch work that had been a massive hole. He was curious as to what the Doc' decided to use in replace of the damaged skull when he cleaned her up; metal? The question, he could tell, was going to nag at him for the rest of the day.

She'd spoken a greeting to him and gave him a repeat smile of the one yesterday, which didn't make him as angry as he thought it would have. He couldn't be angry with the clothing she was wearing, the whorish garments caused him to forgo a lot of annoyances he would have normally had with her, and she looked like she knew that too.

"…goddamn fucker itches….", she cursed and grimaced as she tried to scratch at the wounds with the pads of her fingers. He watched the flesh turn red…redder then it had been before.

"Feels like Barrows put ant poison in there..or something."

He knew she didn't expect an answer from him, so he just crossed his arms and gave the top of her head one last glance before scanning the rest of the bar. For lunch time the bar was rather full. A lot of ghouls were stealing glances at the smoothskin, more curious than anything he figured. They chatted lazily; some were in their personal corners getting high.

"Charon.", a grating voice beckoned.

He immediately turned to Ahzrukhal who was surprisingly staring at the Vaultie and not him. Regardless of his employer's eye contact he stepped from his corner and trudged up to the bar, all the while feeling the girl's eyes on his back. Her gaze was always harsh.

He paused a foot from the bar counter and stared at his employer, waiting for him to speak. Ahzrukhal stared at the spot the girl was sitting for a moment longer and then looked up at him with a pissed expression. His voice was low but that didn't take away from the harshness of his tone.

"Why do you think it is?...that she hangs around this bar all the fucking time?"

No sooner had Ahzrukhal looked up at him did he then break the contact and stare at the Vaultie again. Charon didn't have to look behind him to know that the girl was probably buried in the wordless book she had with her, not even bothering to acknowledge that the bar owner was staring daggers at her.

"The same everyone else does…to drink.", he responded with as little enthusiasm as he could muster.

"..and get high." Ahzrukhal finished his answer without a glance and straightened himself up with a frown.

"I've been noticing the way she looks at you.", he reached up to scratch his chin, the noise was very unpleasant, "Perhaps she's one of those ghoul lovers that I've been hearing about..could make some money off you….if that were the case...

Charon placed his tongue between his teeth and applied pressure. Of course the sleazy prick would think of something like whoring out a male ghoul. If anyone was going to think of it, it would definitely have been him.

"I don't think that is the reason."

He tried to come off as indifferent about the situation as he could but the fact that what he said wasn't what Ahzrukhal wanted to hear made the ghoul growl.

"Then why else would she be hanging around you? I remember fuckin' a smoothskin awhile back. It's not unheard of..thou she could probably find a better one then you.."

Now he was trying to get personal. Charon looked back to a table of ghouls that were piss drunk, hoping and praying something would happen so he could walk away from the bar and Ahzrukhal. The conversation was becoming increasingly uncomfortable and the added effect that the Vaultie had on him was taking its toll.

"Ah..if she wanted you she'd come and ask me anyways..she knows you belong to me."

He waved Charon off and turned to open the cash register to count his caps; a daily ritual.

For a moment he lingered, not wanting to turn and see the Vaultie staring at him. Her gaze burned against the center of his back. The attention was something he wasn't used to…and didn't seem to be getting used to either.

Soon or later he'd have to turn around and wander back to his corner..so it might as well be sooner. He straightened up his shoulder, cracking his spine in the process and turned to sure enough see the girl looking up at him. He saw her stare at him as he found his spot back in the yellow lit corner. She held a pencil in her hand and her head craned up to him in a questioning manner. He stared down at her with passive eyes, not wanting to be the first to look away. It seemed that she wasn't done with him even when she turned her eyes away and set her bitten pencil down. He noted that the beer was half full and only a few crumbs remained of the snack cake, the biker goggles smeared with frosting.

"So…what do you think of the new due?" She'd leaned back again, craning the already fragile chair to look up at him; one hand began to twirl the hair in front of her ear innocently. Her eyes looked so big looking up at him that for a moment he thought they might pop out her skull. He considered ignoring her, as usual, but Ahzrukhal seemed to show no signs of hostility towards conversation with the girl. Out of habit he looked over to Ahzrukhal who was surprisingly looking at the both of them with an oddly amused expression.

She began to speak, normally she would, acting as if he had answered her, but this time she only got a few words in before he opened his mouth and spoke.

"It's fine." It came out quick and hoarse, it sounded rehearsed, not that he had practiced how he would speak to her if the opportunity arose. Regardless, she looked more then taken aback.

He took his eyes off Ahzrukhal, who was grinning like a rabid dog, to look down at her. Those blue eyes were wide and that mousy mouth was parted. The look of surprise wasn't terribly attractive on her he thought. Still she stared at him before her mouth closed and he heard her swallow a lump of spit down her throat.

"..what?", she spoke like someone had just scared her. He would have laughed if it wasn't annoying. A rumble came out of his throat and he turned back to the expanse of the bar not bothering to repeat himself. After staring at her for even a few moments the sight of the bar in comparison was something hard to explain. His eyelids lowered at the peeling walls and the copper tones and hues of the dimly lit bar, it almost made him want to look at her again.

He heard her shuffling and saw her look away out of his peripherals. Inside he felt a little triumphant. She seemed tongue tied; something he thought would never happen, let alone something he would cause.

After a few moments of sweet silence he noticed her plucking up her pencil, dragging it across the paper.

"..thanks.."

He tried not to smile at the soft mumble; the nervous uncertainty was dripping from her word. The edge of his mouth lifted the slightest and he again found a comfortable stance with his arms folded in front of him.

She left half an hour later, leaving behind a piece of paper. Charon had craned his neck a few times in a few different directions to see what it was she had been doing but to no avail. He was eager to look at the paper when she left and had to hold back the urge to pounce on the item at hand. Casually he picked the piece of paper from the sticky table and, with one look in his employer's direction to make sure he wasn't being watched, he put his eyes on the picture drawn before him.

His heart thudded again in that fluttering way it had been doing lately and he gulped. Why she would leave this for him couldn't be anything good….well….simple was a better word.

Scribbled and smudged before him was a crudely drawn picture of him with a smiling woman's neck in his hands…the woman he guess was suppose to be her.

His chest vibrated and that now familiar jolt of arousal beamed through his core. His mind swam, asking the main question in a hundred different ways. Why?

Without any hesitation he folded the drawing and stuffed it in his back pocket roughly, just as Ahzrukhal turned around to give him a quick glance. Charon remained emotionless on the outside as he nodded to his employer whom nodded back and began fixing a patron a drink. On the inside he was far from emotionless…

Someones a little weird...wouldn't you say?